"I .... without you, I can't breathe properly."

MY PERSONAL WEATHERMAN (2023). Episode 7.

Mother..... im so sorry 😭😭 but i swear this ones fun!!

What about another part to poly!moonwater where theres a party but Reg and Rem are running late.

Reg: * anxious and fidgety*

Rem: you know we dont have to go

Reg: no no no we most definetly do, anyway its not that. You havent seen y/n in this environmemt before have you?? She thrives in this kind of environment.

Rem: cant be that bad.....

Reg: 😶 think of Potter, Barty amd my brother in one person.

Rem: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🥲

So when they get there reader is dancing on tables with Barty and Siri. Just the kind of person who lets go in that kinda vibe, doesnt even have to drink, its just the atmosphere that causes her personality to do a whole 180°. The kinda person you habe to but an airtag on so you dont loose them

I love it I love it I love it I love it

poly!moonwater x fem!reader

CW: mention of drinking, drunkenness and alcohol. Friends looking after their drunk friends. Friends bullying their other drunk friends (lovingly)

Remus was thankful that tonight’s Hogwarts party wasn’t being hosted in Gryffindor tower. Not only did James and Sirius get far too invested before, during, and afterwards, but it was also just harder to enjoy on account of watching what was basically your living room be trashed by a bunch of drunks. 

But tonight, he was going to be able to enjoy a nice time with his friends without any of the responsibility of having to clean up after said friends. 

And better yet, he was going to enjoy a nice time with you and Regulus; the first party the three of you would attend together as partners.

You had been very excited for tonight and had volunteered to help set up, whilst Remus opted to wait for Regulus who had quidditch practice before hand. 

And Remus was currently very happy with his choice as he got to watch Regulus change out of his quidditch gear and into his party attire.

“Would you quit ogling me, you fiend.” Regulus muttered as be buttoned the cufflinks into his dress shirt. Remus would have made fun of him for dressing so formally to a dorm party if he didn’t look so bloody good.

“Nope.” He said, popping the P.

Regulus rolled his eyes, but Remus could see a small smirk playing on his lips.

Regulus let out a steadying breath and turned to Remus. “Are you ready?”

Remus smiled before puckering his lips instead of answering. Regulus looked like he thought he should be annoyed, but ultimately gave in and pressed a kiss to the werewolf’s lips, hovering slightly above him as Remus sat reclined onto his elbows on Regulus’ bed.

Regulus pulled away all too quickly for Remus’ liking and began fussing in front of the mirror again, clearly anxious.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, sitting up properly.

Regulus sighed but nodded in the affirmative.

“We don’t have to go, you know.” Remus tried, mistaking the boy’s nerves for being reclusive.  

Regulus kind of snorted at that and looked at Remus with a raised eyebrow. “No, we should go. In fact, we ought to go...like, now.”

Remus felt his brows furrow as Regulus headed towards the door, getting up and following him out obediently.

“This isn’t one of those ‘if we go sooner, we can leave sooner’ tactics, is it? Because with James and Sirius, I promise you that won’t work.”

Regulus laughed. “No, though I’d like to point out I am not afraid of those sods.”

“Well, who are you afraid of that has you sprinting to Ravenclaw tower right now?” Remus asked, causing Regulus to grimace a little guiltily as he slowed his stride for the lycanthrope. 

“Sorry... I guess you haven’t seen Y/N at one of these?” Regulus asked.

Remus realized then that your paths had never really crossed until this year, being a year below him and hanging out with a different crowd. “No, I guess not. Why?” 

Regulus laughed. “Oh gods. You’ll see.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad.” Remus said with a scoff. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and smirked. “If I had one way to describe Y/N at a party, it would be a combination of Potter after a quidditch win, Sirius after four shots of firewhiskey and Barty.”

Remus’ steps faltered as he put the pieces together in his head. Regulus paused as well, making eye contact with him before understanding seemed to cross between them, and they both took off in a sprint towards the Ravenclaw tower. 

As they rounded the last spiral of the staircase, they stepped past the silencing spell that had been placed around it and could feel the vibrations from the music booming in the room. 

A third year Ravenclaw who had been paid for their service in Honeydukes chocolates answered the riddle to allow entrance to Regulus and Remus, and the sight took Remus’ breath away. 

You can dance! You can ji-ive.

You were standing dancing on the mantle of a grand fireplace with Sirius on one side of you and one of the Prewett twins on the other.

Having the time of your lives. Oooooh.

James looked like he’d been trying all evening to get up on that mantle with you guys, but in his inebriated state, Lily was easily preventing him from doing so.  

See that girl!

Both Sirius and... Fabian (if Remus guessed correctly) knelt to dramatically point at you who quickly struck a cheeky pose, earning the three of you cheers (but Remus was sure most of the applause was on your account).

Watch that scene!

Sirius pretended to play a riff on a guitar and Fabian did a scary looking spin from his place on the mantle whilst you opted to shimmy your shoulders in time with the music. 

Digging the dancing queen!

And to Remus’ absolutely horror, Fabian launched himself off of the mantle, seemingly making his mark by landing on the couch but apparently, he hadn’t taken into account the springs in the sofa which promptly launched him back off of the couch and had him landing on the wooden coffee table, causing it to splinter and break underneath him. 

Sirius looked like he was going to either fall off the mantle or piss his pants from laughing too hard, clutching your arm as you laughed along with him. 

Over Remus’ dead body would Sirius fall off a fireplace mantle and take you down with him.

He bodily moved through the crowd and stepped over Fabian without a second thought to stand below you (and Sirius, technically). Remus’ heart rate skyrocketed even more standing here below you, seeing as he was about 192cm (~6’3) and the mantle stood basically at his eyebrows.

He wanted to chide you, but your face cleared beautifully once you recognized who was standing below you.

“Remmy!” You cried as Sirius cheered “Moony!”

“I know I call you ‘dove’ baby girl, but that doesn’t mean you can fly!” He called up to you, any reprimand likely belittled by the beaming smile he was shooting at you. 

He held his hands up to you, and you quickly abandoned Sirius’ arms in exchange for his. With his hands under your armpits he gently lowered you back down to your proper height (which Remus much preferred). 

“Hi Rem!” You cheered at him. “I missed you.”

Your words were clear and loud if a little slurred. 

“I missed you!” Remus replied with a smile as Regulus quickly added “how many drinks have you had?” from his place behind him, apparently having made sure his ‘idiot brother didn’t break anything on his trip off the mantle’. Remus had sort of forgotten Sirius was there at all, to be honest. 

You seemed a little worried at Regulus’ question before he quickly added “I need to know how many I need to catch up to you, mon chéri.”

“Nice save.” Remus muttered to him.

“Uhm, maybe four?” You offered.

“Got it, think you can handle a refill?” He asked, placing a kiss to your temple. Remus wanted to eat the two of you up, you were just so cute.

“I’m on water for a bit!” You cheered back at him.

“So smart, dovey. Nice call.” Remus praised you. You beamed back at him in response. 

“S’not fair!” James shouting interrupted your chat.

“I’ll go get you a drink too, okay?” Regulus whispered into Remus’ ear before quickly taking off, clearly not interested in the whining of an inebriated James Potter.

“M’not ‘llowed to dance on th’mantle, m’not allowed to-to play with the play with the suit’s o’armours. Why’d I even come.” James cried miserably between hiccups.

“James, you cannot sword fight with the suits of armours, you will lose. When you lose a sword fight, you die.” Lily reprimanded, clearly at her wits end with her boyfriend.

“Awe, tough hand mate. Hey! Can I challenge you to a chugging contest?” Remus said, clapping James on the back.

James seemed to brighten up at that as Lily quickly scowled at him. Remus offered the redhead a wink as he plucked your cup of water out of your hands and handed it to James.

“’kay, but no cheating!” James called to Remus. Remus figured James was too drunk to realize one couldn’t really cheat at a chugging contest, but Remus didn’t plan on winning anyway.

Regulus had returned at the perfect time for Remus to take a drink and bring it to his lips. James, in his enthusiasm ended up wearing most of the water, but claimed he won after downing the rest of it.

“No way James, I want a rematch!” Remus called, grabbing the new cup of water Regulus had brought over for you - quickly promising to make it up to you - and handing it off to James.

The group ended up being able to keep James entertained by challenging him to ‘chugging contests’ whilst handing him cups of water until he had to pee. 

Remus got to watch you flit around the party, dancing to your hearts content (though, he did make sure to discourage you from anymore high surface areas. When he couldn’t, he made sure to spot you from below), and even convincing Regulus to ball dance with you, even though it was to the likes of Jackson 5. Though you quickly abandoned him for Sirius when Play That Funky Music came on.

Remus was sat in a large cushioned chair with Regulus in his lap as they watched you, clearly in your element. 

“Gods, she’s fun.” Remus whispered to his boyfriend. Regulus breathed out a chuckle and leaned further into Remus.

“She is. She can be trouble sometimes though. Probably good that Barty’s nowhere to be found.”

Regulus’ voice trailed off confusedly at the end.

“What is it?” Remus asked, but you came barrelling over to them, slightly sweaty and breathless from your dancing.

“Hi.” You breathed excitedly, falling to your knees in front of them.

“Hi dovey! Having fun?” Remus asked, bringing his hand not currently holding his drink and wrapped around Regulus’ waist to caress your face. His heart squeezed as your eyes closed and you leaned into the touch. “S’much fun.”

“Amour, where is Barty?” Regulus asked.

Your eyebrows furrowed momentarily before a cheeky smile crossed your face as you remembered.

“Oh, he’s...hanging around.” You offered vaguely. 

“Should I be worried?” Regulus asked cautiously, earning him a snort from Lily as she hauled a nearly sleeping James over to the couch beside them.

“The sod was swinging from the chandelier and got stuck. None of us bothered trying to get him down – he’s fast asleep.” She explained, gesturing to the ceiling with a nod of her head.

Sure enough, nearly right above them, Barty was passed out cold as if he were simply swinging in a hammock. 

“Hm...” Regulus deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at you. “Amour, did someone bet Barty that he couldn’t manage to get to the chandelier?” 

“No.” You answered quickly, defiantly. Regulus continued staring impassively at you until you sighed. “I bet him he couldn’t get down from the chandelier.” 

“And she was right.” Lily added, giving you a fist bump.

Regulus let out a long suffering sigh, causing Remus to chuckled and rub his side placatingly. 

“Fair enough, sweets.” He conceded.

“Easy for you to say.” Regulus muttered. “You aren’t responsible for getting him down.”

“Just leave him up there.” Sirius commented; he wasn’t quite as drunk as Remus expected him to be, but his movements were still sloppy as he moved to sit on the floor beside you. “That’s apparently what friends do.” He said pointedly, glaring at Remus and sticking his tongue out at him.

“I had more important priorities.” He said, winking down at you.

“Are-are you s,saying that Y/N’s more impo- important than your mate, Rmussss?” James said – barely – through hiccups.

“Certainly prettier priorities.” Regulus commented.

“Oi!” Sirius shouted far louder than necessary. “You take that back!” 

“I’ll do no such thing.” Regulus responded casually. 

Sirius went to stand from his place, no doubt to try to roughhouse his brother. 

“It’s okay Sirius. I think you’re very pretty. Next time, you can be the dancing queen.” You placated. Sirius turned to look at you like you hung the moon.

“Really?!” He cried. You nodded, causing the sod to launch himself, tackling you in a hug and causing the two of you to fall over.

“Oi! Don’t crush my darlin’ girl, Pads!” Remus called at the same time as Regulus spat “if she has so much as one fucking bruise Sirius, I swear to Salazar...”

“Do forgive him,” Lily commented, “he was just informed he could be the next dancing queen.”

“Why mess with perfection? I happen to think Y/N was a wonderful dancing queen!” Marlene called from somewhere behind Remus.

“I MISSED DANCING QUEEN!?” Barty screeched from his aerial prison above them.

Regulus let out another long-suffering sigh as he stood, lifted you up out of Sirius’ grasp and placed you in his vacated spot on Remus’ lap. “I’ll go get my broom to get him down...”

“How’d you manage to win that bet, dove?” Remus whispered as Regulus disappeared through the door, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck.

“Sticking charm.”

Remus chuckled and felt the breaths leaving his nose bounce off your skin and back into his face. 

“My cheeky little minx.”

‘Are you that obsessed with me?’

John ‘Soap’ McTavish x Fem!Reader

someone commissioned me to do this and idk if they’d like to stay anon, so im just gonna keep it there!

Warnings: smut, msub to mdom, a bit rough, teasing, thats abt it. I’m not that good at writing smut, so this is your other warning 😢😢

WC:985

It was no secret that you and Soap were best friends. Before anything, you and Soap had met in high school. You stayed friends stayed friends ever since. Nothing more.

Currently, you both were training. Nothing to severe, just punching and dodging. You both could barley breathe.

All Soap could pay attention to is how your chest would go up and down heavily.

“Pay attention, McTavish. Don’t want me winning do you?”

He’d do anything if it met you’d win. He didn’t care if that meant you’d have him pinned down on the mat.

He’d do anything to feel that luxury.

“Huh, wha’d you say?”

“Jesus.. Here, why don’t we take a break because it’s obvious you cant focus.”

“I can focus perfectly fine!”

He can focus fine, when i came to you at least.

You both headed to the kitchen of the safe house and got something to get something to eat.

Who knows how long you and Soap had been trying? Soap did. He always new how long you and Him would train. Always 1hr and 50mins.

One thing he knew he wanted was you. All he needed was you.

He knew that it took was one kiss to the cheek and he’d go absolutely crazy.

“John? Do you want the water or not?”

“Oh, yeah sorry..”

“Whats up with you? Your zoning out a lot, and you don’t do that a lot? You can talk to me.”

That. That right there was the reason he needed you so much. That was the reason he loved you so much.

“I-I uh.. I don’t know if i can tell you about this one though..”

“Please Johnny.”

Those two words had him shying away from you and a blushing mess. Even his pants started growing tighter.

“I-um.. I like you, a lot. And I don’t know if I keep it a secret any longer“

You admittedly stopped breathing. You couldn’t stand properly anymore and you didn’t know if it was because of training or because what Soap just confessed.

“So thats why you keep looking at my tits? And thats why you have a boner right now? Am I correct?”

You wanted to tease him a bit, just for a while.

“N-No! Maybe, and so what?”

“I’ll tell you what, you’ve trying to act sly. Did you really think i couldn’t see all of that happening?”

All he could do was whine. He was to hot to make a comment back.

“Aww, whining for me already? Haven’t even touched you and your already a mess.”

“Am not..” He basically moaned it out. He just needs you bouncing on his cock. No thoughts besides you on him.

“How about we go to your room and fix that little problem of yours, hm?”

When he finally gets enough courage to talk again, its admittedly taken by you kissing him.

As soon as you both hit the door, he’s on you in a instant.

“Let me close the door at least! God, your that desperate, aren’t you?”

All he could respond with is kissing your neck. After you close the door he throws you on the bed.

“Take off your shirt. Please.”

“Whatever you want.”

He went to help you but you shoed him away.

“instead of worrying about me, how about I help with your cock?”

He didn’t even have to reply before you were on your knees infront of him, unbuckling his pants.

All he could do is let out a grunt of desire. It wasn’t long before you had his tip in your mouth. You took hold of his hips and pushed his cock to the back of your throat.

You tried not to gag. He’s not average, just 3 inches above and had a nice bit of thickness.

He took hold of your hair and face fucked you until he was close.

“Get up so i can fuck you much harder.”

You obeyed without a comment, sitting up on the bed, legs open wide for him.

You couldn’t help but whimper at the size of him. You thought he looked bigger when you sucking him off.

He lined himself to your entrance before looking at you for your approval.

You nodded anxiously, and as soon as you nodded he slowly stretched you out.

It hurt, but it hurt in a good way. A way you couldn’t describe.

You whimpered and squirmed around him causing him to take hold of your legs.

“Hold still baby. You only took the first couple inches and your a mess. What a shame.”

“Just hurry up please!”

“Calm down, Just a couple more inches.”

It felt like an eternity until you felt his hips sharply slam against yours, making you cry out of pleasure.

Soap started picking up pace quickly. You could barley catch your breath. The only thing coming from your throat were gasps and moans.

“Eyes on me baby, and keep them there.”

You couldn’t muster up the courage to look at him, so he grabbed you by ur chin making you look at him.

You whined at the sudden contact. You didn’t know how long you could last if you had to look into his pretty blue eyes.

“S-Soap, Im gonna cum.. Please.”

“Just a bit longer, I promise.”

His thrusts got more sloppier, and more fast paced.

You cried out as you came. It was enough to make you pull a blank. The only thing coming out your mouth was Soap’s name.

Minutes later, Soap finally reached his high. Letting out curses and blurting out a ‘I love you so much’ which pulled you out your blank.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

You looked at him and laughed.

“Im serious! Did i say something?”

“I love you too, dickhead.”

He looked redder than he was before and hid in your shoulder.

“Aww, after that you get so flustered? Thats adorable.”

“Hmp.”

“Goodnight, Babe.”

“Goodnight.”

IDK IF THIS IS GOOD OR NOT BC IM NOT THAT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT SO PLS LEAVE UR RECOMMENDATIONS 😰😰

My Thoughts in Real Time as I Watched Episode 13 of Love in the Air That Absolutely Nobody Asked For:

- IM SO EXCITED I CANT BREATHE

- I can’t believe this is the (second to) last time I’m gonna see this intro, I already want to cry

- Fucking Sig, I love him so much.

- Can we get a spin-off just dedicated to Sig?

- Rain, you nosy motherfucker. We love you for this.

- Also, I’m so totally here for Sky finally not holding back his emotions. Agreeing to give Pai a ‘prize’ if he wins? We love to see it.

- Prapai’s posting picture of Sky on his Instagram? I’m fucking dead.

- These episode names are too much. Can’t do it!

- Aww, little baby Sky.

- Sky smoking? Oof. I don’t care how gross it is, smoking is hot. Sue me.

- If that was really the first time Sky took a drag of a cigarette, he’d have coughed it all back out. The first few cigarettes as a new smoker suck, and they fucking hurt.

- On that note, don’t smoke, kids! It’s bad for you!

- I knew that it was gonna be Gun, and as soon as I saw him, I honest to god growled. Fucker.

- Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. (To myself and to Sky)

- Listen to your friends, Sky!

- Okay, smoking’s not hot when this fucking dickbag does it.

- This should go without saying, but for everyone out there reading this, don’t let anyone take advantage of you or hurt you unless you’re into it. Don’t go along with shit you’re not comfortable with just to prove that you love someone. Fuck them, fuck their feelings, protect yourself.

- Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now.

- Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck I don’t wanna watch this.

- I can’t imagine how hard this was for Peat. The reaction video is gonna hurt.

- Fuck, I hope someone kills this fucking asshole.

- I know this is an emotional scene, but I’m losing my shit over Pai calling Sky ‘baby’

- THIS FUCKING COCKMONGER AGAIN?

- Take your fucking eyes off of him and wipe that smirk off your face, you shitbird.

- Fluffy PrapaiSky will be the death of me.

- I’m so proud of Sky for not being afraid and being able to admit how he feels. My sweet baby has come so far!

- The look of terror on Sky’s face when he didn’t know who was hugging him is just one giant foreshadow and I hate it.

- “My lucky star” 😭😭😭😭

- Payu is 1000% done with Pai’s lovesick ass like he probably wasn’t just as bad a few months ago.

- We need more Payu/Sky and Prapai/Rain. The boyfriend/best friend dynamic is so freaking cute.

- Every time I see that bastard, I get so fucking angry.

- I was gonna yell at Sky to run as soon as he saw Gun, but I remember when someone who looked like my abuser walked into my job and I shut down and just completely froze, so I understand why he couldn’t run.

- It’s absolutely killing me that Pai knows that Petch is a slimy little snake, but that he doesn’t know why.

- Yes, Sky! You stand up for yourself! Your man loves you, and don’t forget it!

- Rain, I know you’re trying to be helpful, but I kinda wanna smack you.

- Rain really is a gold(fish)en retriever, isn’t he? Head empty, no thoughts, attention span that only lasts two seconds, but damn it, he’s a good boy that’s trying his best.

- I feel nauseous watching Sky walk into that apartment.

- You fucking liars. I’m so angry.

- I’m so glad that Sky doesn’t believe them. It’s amazing to see how much he’s changed.

- Sky Protection Squad in full force, yes! Go rescue him!

- Where the fuck are Rain and Payu while Pai and Gun are in the bedroom? Are they just making tea with the other assholes that were in the apartment? Come on, guys.

- Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.

- Love him to death, but for the love of method acting, someone please teach Fort how to properly throw a punch.

- He should have killed him. And Payu should have hit Petch, too.

- I don’t know what hurts more, Sky being catatonic and not being able to cry, or Pai sobbing for him.

- He brought him home. Like, home, home.

- That picture of the two of them on Pai’s desk, I could cry.

- I don’t even have any more thoughts, I’m just happy that Gun and Stop are gone, all four of my boys are happy, and that Pai knows everything about Sky now.

- There are a bunch of scenes from the novel that I’m sad were not in the series, but that could be a whole separate post.

- WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY LIFE NOW?

- Aside from finish KinnPorsche (I still have two episodes left), catch up on Remember Me and Between Us, binge all the other shows I have on my To Watch list, and tear my hair out waiting for Just Say Yes.

- Excuse me while I rewatch the entire series over and over.

Soo I wanna talk about my (possibly) chronic illness, because I’m so tired of this.

My reason to self diagnose: I have to self diagnose, my dad doesn’t believe in “disorders and disabilities (specifically ones like chronic illness, he normalized it in such a horrific way, it made me feel like I was an odd one out when I realized how healthy everyone else is)” *please don’t hate him, we don’t have money for much things anyways, it’s fine*

If you hate self diagnosis, just leave and spare both of us,

For now I wanna talk about what makes me feel like I have chronic illness, and that is literally being sick, I’ll be generally talking about everything painful/tiring that has been affecting me for over a year now..

TW: Mentions self harm/hate, gore, of gag/spit/vomit, dizziness, unease, etc. if you are sensitive to this topic please read at your own risk,,

Let’s start, so lately ive been accidentally swallowing mucus, all day, all night, to the point I have to breathe from my mouth, which COMPLETELY destroys my smell and taste. Especially when I get the common cold..

Barely any mucus comes from my nose, it’s almost ALWAYS my throat and saliva, to the point I started to think my saliva and mucus have been completely combined now. Like.. literally.

my breath always stinks, minty tastes really sucks and I hate toothpaste, I hate the mint and the texture, I’ve tried some things like these little bottles of meds for the cold, but they NEVER worked.

I almost always have a headache, my heartbeat has went from my normal 60/70bpm to 90/120 min/max.. and I always get voice changes, sometimes too deep, sometimes too high, and sometimes I lose my voice.

AND YOU KNOW WHATS FUNNY?! I LOVE SINGING. ITS LITERALLY MY SPECIALTY, MY ONLY TALENT THAT I CAN DO WITHOUT ABANDONING IT LIKE THE REST OF MY FAILED TALENTS, AND IT FUCKING SUCKS SO MUCH WHEN MY VOICE CHANGES.

I’m sorry.

back to my point, when I cry, I feel like my mucus explodes from everywhere, my throat, nose, eyes, and when I blow my nose too hard it hurts my ears for a while.

I’m so tired, I can barely run, I don’t wanna say I have asthma, but maybe I’m just not energetic and lazy.. or something.. and I CANT. I repeat.. I CANT. SLEEP.

It’s almost physically impossible (unless I stay up for too long to the point I slowly faint to sleep, which has been normal now for me)

did I mention my constipation? (Maybe this isn’t related, I’m just curious what makes someone chronically ill, especially since I’ve had constipation for around a year now)

I can’t sleep, smell, sing, cry (I hate crying so much, it’s become so terrifying and horrible) laugh, (cause all the mucus chokes me and makes me gag and almost vomit.

oh how I wish I could just rip out my throat and replace my nose and throat for a working one. How I wish I could breathe normally, to smell, to sing properly, to walk properly without my legs hurting or straining, to laugh and cry without choking and gagging, spitting mucus in the bathroom for what seems like 30 minutes, to think properly without a headache, to feel NORMAL again. It’s been a year or two now. Cant I just feel like a normal person again?

God why do I turn everything into a fucking vent.

Edit: does this mean I am chronically ill?

005 — the wind

There was absolutely no need to storm your mother's office. Kimiko had warned her, she had also said that you had to discuss something serious. Your mother was totally excited when you stepped through the office door. She got up frantically and took you in her arms. She gently rubbed your back and smiled gratefully at Kimiko over your shoulder. At that point, your mother didn't know anything and you didn't want to tell her in the office either. 

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Your mother's foot appeared to be stuck to the accelerator as she drove the three of you home.  Kimiko held onto the dashboard as usual while you rocked back and forth on the back seat.  Every now and then your mother looked in the rearview mirror to gaze at you worriedly.

Thanks to your mother's fast-paced driving style, you arrived at your home within minutes (surprisingly alive). The way to the front door dragged on because your mother tried to straighten every flower and plant in the front yard. When the three of you arrived at the door (after ages), your breaths froze. She observed the special gift stiffly. 

"That's not why you took me home-"

Your mother stopped mid-sentence as she interpreted the expression on your face. She closed her eyes briefly to compensate for the upcoming tears. Not in the front yard.

Your mother stared at you in shock, then at Kimiko.  She bowed her head and blinked on the floor. Taking a deep breath, she jumped just outside the front door and unlocked it. 

"Come in over the veranda"  she mumbled and nodded to both of you before she disappeared into the house. Slowly you walked around the house. Kimiko swallowed hard. It was like your stalker noticed that you wanted to talk to your mother.

Your mother had already set the little table on the veranda. It was the wedding tableware that your grandma had handpainted. Tea calms the soul, Y/N, my darling. Then the old woman had adjusted her glasses and threw a mischievous smile around them. This is exactly what your mother was trying to copy now, with the aim of calming you down.

"Then let's get started."

"Tell me why there is a decapitated cat on our doorstep." Your mother smiled gently as she poured your tea into your mugs. As if this would be a usual topic, you'd discuss it on regular basis. Though, it wasn't. Not for you, at least. Kimiko hold back a chuckle because this whole situation was too bizarre.

"Look, as your mother I care about you over anyone and anything else. You are my one and only child. You seemed a bit off. The last few months. Let me help you or at least don't let me run around in darkness and ignorance anymore, my darling."

At this point, you weren't sure if there was worry in her eyes or eyes in her worry. Yet you felt the worry, with every cell of your body, and it was nearly torturing.

"I received gifts. Beautiful, loving ones at first. You know, gifts you would give your significant cant other. I noticed that there was someone. Wherever I was, I wasn't alone. The person spied on me. They were asking my friends about me. What kind of books I'd like and—" You stopped, your voice was shaking so much, that you couldn't finish properly.

"And we are not even halfway through it all, Mrs. L/N," Kimiko whispered and decided to talk from now on, after exchanging nods with you.

"I got confused when you told me Y/N doesn't have a tutoring job. Why would she lie to me? I waited at the school bus stop for her. However, she didn't come. So I waited for the bus to drive without me to look after my only friend. We walked home that afternoon... We always do since then." Kimiko made a pause to take a sip of the tea and tried to smile warmly at your mother but she terribly failed at it.

"I felt those glances too. And Y/N kept the letters and presents and -coming directly to the next point- screenshot all chat conversations. Just if you don't believe us."

Your mother shuddered in shock. How the hell could Kimiko say she wouldn't believe you. Shivering, she grabbed your hands and tried to hold the four as tightly as possible. As a mother you can feel when your child is suffering, you could say, but that's not true. Some ailments are so quiet that they cannot be heard unless they are talked about. Your mother wasn't angry with you because of your silence (maybe a bit disappointed), but just glad that she now knew what was on your mind. She sighed in a relief moment. Before she remembered the dead cat and the way you had been adoring cats for a very long time. This certain somebody was about to meet one of your mother's fists soon.

The silence enveloped you three and a gentle breeze freshened the air.  Slowly you closed your eyes and exhaled with relief.

Maybe it's the wind that uses the leaves of the cherry tree as its instruments. Maybe it's the warm tea between your hands. Maybe it's the fact that your mother knows and believes, that made your spirit free and light for the first time in months.

———

004 <<<<< do you see me >>>>>006

———

©@hypnagogicwriter on Tumblr. 2023

i am once again very annoyed they cut youngwoo's scenes. she opened up to junho after the miscommunication and then... they cut it to give us more non communication!? like you expect me to think after she told him that, he left and nothing got resolved that night? PLEASE. next day shes looking at him through her window and they obviously didnt get anywhere like what? i was like "finally he went straight to the point" when they finally got a chance to talk and NOTHING ADVANCED. im very annoyed. they're 2521 this. they're making such a mess. i know theres a second season but if you cant finish the first one on a decent note then?? all the characters have weird ass stories. suyeon trying to get with minwoo after he was doing something to impress her for 5 secs? where was your fierce stand before? u had standards like junho but go for minwoo? girl pls. i miss attorney jung. he was the highlight of this ep tbh ;-; him and youngwoo together > then adding more shit to the sumi line with her son being the hacker?? like i thought i was gonna breathe at least for the season finale (before we knew there was a second season) imagine going into tmrw thinking the series was gonna end there i would go crazy but i already am. the show went from a super high to somehow being very inconsistent in the last eps... like at this rate they'll beat 2521 for sloppy writing :/

I share that sentiment anon ! I was so annoyed when they cut that scene because it's just nonsensical to cut a conversation there??? and it means it doesn't really serve a purpose because yes junho knows why she doesn't want to keep going with him but he didn't even get to respond to it and her to him? what's the point if she keeps on thinking she's incapable of making someone happy??? and no one has this kind of conversation and then just walks away from each other djflsgdkq honestly this scene didn't make feel like we, the viewers, were really taken seriously because it's such a cheap trick to keep on dragging a plot tjat I can't take it as the characters' behaviour when they still haven't resolved their issues because it's so obviously not based on how their actually function

as for sooyeon... what are they trying to achieve with her? @kdramedies has written several good points about how sooyeon behaves with youngwoo and how the show didn't actually make her go that far in her evolution regarding her ableism so now we get her falling for minwoo and her agreeing with him over youngwoo's "privilege" and it's like oh ok so who's actually on youngwoo's side ? and at this point it seems like it's only attorney jung whose relationship with youngwoo is a delight to watch and definitely the most well developed one in the show lol

the fact that they added the brother at the last minute omg I still don't really know if they wrote this season knowing there would be a second season or not (and i guess I'll find out based on how ep16 ends lol) , if they did know about it I guess it makes sense to add him even towards the end but they're still not fully sure they'll be able to make a second season happen with everyone it seems so why not try to wrap season 1 properly without adding too much first... no matter what it's going to make this finale so rushed and full of so many plot points I'm dizzy thinking about everything lol inconsistent is a good word for this show

also personally I didn't find 2521 that sloppy in its writing? aside from how the juxtaposition of the past and the present were kind of weird and how the pacing between heedo's high-school days and her days as an athlete was unbalanced so the heedo-yi rim romance was rushed but tbh I don't remember much because I wasn't that engrossed by it so I can't really compare both shows, they just seem too different to me

oh em gee 🤭🤭 did you just call me your fav?? got me twirling my hair , giggling and shit

but no hello? you're my fav here and no way in hell am i gonna be disappointed by any of your works ever?? not humanly possible?? because the new fic idea for hyuck also has me very much down bad, you keep making me get excited for all your works.

also also also, yn really did get more than a high five huh, she walked properly by jisung's side without pulling any shit, admirable innit?

pls jisung here is such a closed off cutie, like bro really overthinks every fucking breath he takes, like my man relax, also his theory of his life being a crazy game simulation is so jisung of him, like very much real jisung of him, cause that boy gives me vibes that he might actually believe all of the concept of matrix and shit?!

oh well ig i spoke too much😭 anyways i hope thanksgiving was fun for you! love you sm💗🤭

-slendy anon

(you cant tell but im literally screaming loudly and jumping all around my room) YOURE TOOO NICE HELLO 😭😭 i doubt i'm your fave but its still an honour.. i'm glad you think my work is good ☹️ it motivates me to become better!!! idk if i'll ever post that hyuck fic since i'm too busy these days but we can always PRAY.

AND WELL YES! proud of her to not be her weird self next to him cos she couldv'e been really crazy and asked him why his follower count went up by 10 in the last 6 days but we will make her a bit more normal for now (future activities tho.. again she is crazy like that but we like it!)

i feel like even irl jisung overthinks everything and YES i bet he has once thought that he was in some kind of matrix he is such an oddball i adore it.

i don't celebrate thanksgiving but if you did i hope you enjoyed it mwuah <3

A Helping Hand

pairing: josh kiszka x reader 

warnings: SMUT, male received oral. 

author’s note: another josh story just for my dearest :) 

“hey, stupid! are you gonna answer my question or not?”

“wha-what?”

“do you want pizza or thai?”

“oh, uh..thai.”

you looked over at your best friend with your eyebrows furrowed, concerned by his lack of focus. typing in the order you knew he’d want and pondering which drink you’d like, you sit back onto your couch, letting your knees bump josh’s.

he pulls back suddenly- almost as if he was burnt by the contact. your face creases even more, and breathe a laugh through your nose.

after almost two hours, pad thai had been eaten, the end of a film was playing and your level of concern- potentially even frustration- had grown to unavoidable amounts. testing his reaction, you shuffle closer to him, once again letting your knee bump his and watch him pull his body completely away from you without even looking at you.

“okay, josh. what’s going on?” you sigh, throwing your hands up into the air. he looks over to you, coffee coloured eyes meeting yours.

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean, josh. this is the first time we see each other in months and you won’t even let me be close to you? we always cuddle when we watch movies.” your voice reaches a whiney register as you speak, letting your lips form a pout once you finish your point.

“oh-uh, i’m sorry. i’m just tired.” his answer was unsatisfactory. he refused to meet your gaze any longer after your head cocked to the left, your eyebrows raising to show how unimpressed you were.

“that’s not it. even when you’re tired, you cuddle- probably even more than usual. what’s wrong?”

“nothing, love. just drop it.”

“josh, you have to tell me now. tell me tell me tell me tell me-“

“i can’t come, okay? ive been on the road, and so busy and i just haven’t had any…special time with anyone. it’s making me a little antsy.”

the words hang in the air and you feel your jaw go slack. that certainly wasn’t the answer you were expecting. a few moments go by before a gentle nudge to your arm pulls you back to the planet, and you feel your cheeks flush slightly.

“oh- uhh, i don’t know what to say. i’m sorry?”

“no, it’s fine. its just- i cant even, y’know, do anything by myself anymore. its like being blueballed constantly.”

“and for how long?” you ask quietly.

“almost three months. i feel like there’s something wrong with me, love. there’s just too much tension now and i can’t get a release.” he sighs deeply, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

an idea springs to your mind, but you try to make it go away. there was no way he’d say yes. you were letting your small, tiny, unimportant crush get in the way of josh’s genuine problem. you sigh loudly, having to physically shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“what, what? why are you shaking your head?” josh asks, concern laced through his voice.

“uh- nothing. i’m not sure how to help you, babe. are you sure you’ve tried everything?”

“everything. i’ve felt ridiculous these past few months, acting like a horny teenager. it’s honestly embarrassing.” he squeezes his eyes shut and pushes his head against the back of the sofa. you reach out and press a hand to his knee.

“it’s not embarrassing, josh. you just need..uh..to find a solution.” you stammer, having almost just let slip what you really wanted to suggest to him.

“i just need to..what?” he looks over at you, the sides of his lips curling upwards. his knee twitches and reminds you that you’re still stroking it softly.

ok. this can go one of two ways. either, you tell him and it works, or it doesn’t and he never wants to speak to you again. though, looking at him spread out on the sofa with his legs wide and his eyes barely open, you struggle to see the cons of your idea. the decision is made before you can even think properly.

you slink off the sofa onto the floor, shuffling until you were kneeling directly in front of josh. his eyes widen slightly, and a small gasp leaves his mouth.

“wait, y/n. i didn’t mean-i mean, if you wanted to i wouldn’t mi- please don’t think this is why i told you-“

“are you going to let me help you out or not, babe?”

“uhm, if you want to, i don’t want you to feel obligated-“

“let me give you a hand.”

“oh-okay.”

you place both hands on his knees, gulping down any inhibitions you held. letting your hands slide up his thighs with feather-light touch, you muse to yourself that his face had very quickly changed. his eyebrows were pulled together and his lip was set into a line, focusing only on your hands and the unspoken boundaries of friendship they crossed.

once you finally got to his belt buckle, you released the button and zipper of his jeans, revealing black boxers. a whisper of a touch against the newly revealed fabric told you he was already hard, though you were sure his face could have told you that.

a shuddering breath wracks through his body as your fingers dance around the waistband of his boxers, teasing and softly stroking the small slither of exposed skin above the band of elastic. he loses his patience and ungraciously shoves the material off of his body, sighing with newfound comfort as his rock-hard cock springs up against his clothed stomach.

“where do you want me to touch you, babe?”

“please, just anywhere. just touch me.” he gets out through his teeth, looking more desperate to be touched than he’d ever looked in his life.

you gently take him into your hands. he was panting, pushing his palms into the couch cushions beside him in attempts to keep his composure, but you knew it would soon be lost as you guide him towards your mouth.

as you suspected, josh’s eyes fluttered and rolled back when your tongue swirls around his tip. you pull off of him with a pop, before flattening your tongue against the base of his length and licking a languid strip until you reach the top. every move felt experimental, though you couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about this very situation in great detail, so you had some idea of what you wanted to do with him.

there was a whole list of filthy things you had wanted to do to him, and you were determined to tick them off one by one. however the main objective, for now, was to simply make him come. his eyes were still rolling, knees twitching every time you sucked a little bit harder.

you take all of him in your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat. his hands find your hair, pushing it out of your face and knotting it between his hands until it softly ached, eliciting a moan from you. the vibrations of your throat against him make his hips rut and you gag, tears filling your eyes.

when you come up for air, string of spit still connecting you to him, meeting his eyes feels difficult. however, a strong hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him, a short gasp leaving your lips. josh’s pupils are blown, and his chest is heaving.

your eyes flick down to his parted lips and he licks them. his thumb traces your bottom lip and forces its way into your mouth, sending a shockwave of excitement to your stomach.

“back to work, angel.” he whispers, removing his thumb and again tangling with your hair, to push your head back towards his cock.

eagerly continuing your previous work, you begin a pattern of hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head, your hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t quite reach. his moans, short gasps and the lewd sounds of your mouth are the only sounds occupying the otherwise silent room.

every sound, every sigh, every twitch he made sent another shock to your core and you were sure you were dripping with arousal- he could enjoy that later, but for now this was about him.

his hips had found a gentle rhythm rocking into your mouth, head thrown back against the couch and mouth hanging wide open as pleasure overtook him. the fingers laced in your hair weren’t gentle: tugging and squeezing against your scalp to urge you to continue.

“oh, fuck-you take me so well, sweetheart. keep going, i’m nearly there.” he manages to get out, and you mentally applaud him for being able to think straight enough to praise you.

josh’s words spur you on, and you begin moving faster to help him reach his peak. a low moan leaves his mouth, his chest moving even faster and his fingers pushing against your scalp.

“fuuuuuuuuck, keep going. i want you to swallow my come. can you do that for me?”

every sentence is finished with a loud gaps, as he’s barely able to keep his body from writhing under you. this was quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. you hum affirmatively against him, squeezing your spare hand onto his thigh.

feeling his cock throb in your mouth, you make sure to watch his face as he comes, revelling in his blissed-out expression. his head is still thrown back, his eyebrows knotted, his mouth wide open and his throat exposed.

a deep grunt leaves him, and he shudders as he comes deep into your mouth. you swallow every drop and stick your tongue out to prove to him you had done so, and he softly pats your cheek to say well done.

slowly pulling off him, you make eye contact with him and make sure he sees you wink. you press a kiss to his still-red tip and he breathes a laugh.

“that was..”

“did it help?”

“i think you’re gonna have to start coming on tour with us.”

I miss you. .

This is just a reader x doll!Kai idea i had long ago where reader got paired up with doll kai at the chapter 3.

This is my first fanfic so I apologize if this is bad but i hope you guys like it

✧‧˚

"Now begins the Sub-Game, the Murderer Game! I'm looking forward to the finest bloodlust." Midori say excitedly, turning his back about to walk away.

"Wait!" You call out. Everyone has a partner and you were worried that without a partner, this sick twisted so called game will kill you off instantly. " I don't have a partner- why is that?" Narrowing your eyes, you questions cautiously.

"Ahahaha! So you notice." He chuckles, "Honestly i didn't expect to see you alive this far so i haven't pair you up! My bad, buttt since you ask nicely, i will kindly pair you up with someone you used to know! Tada! here he is." As Midori grins triumphantly, a figure steps infront of him and come into view.

"Kai!?" You and your friends exclaim in bewilderment. Disbelief and speechless fills you as your eyes can't believe the person standing in front of you is your boyfriend. Alive. "I thought you were dead! I-i saw you die..." You whispers softly.

Hearing this, Midori's grins widen. Interrupting the moments, he proudly explains. "Ah, yes, your precious Kai is already dead. This Kai here is a dummy or doll like the others who will be working along with you." You feels crushed as you hears this. "[Y/N]'s Red Thread of Fate activate! Now that's settle, let get back where we left off. Shall we? I will be looking forward for your actions." With that he finally leave, leaving you flabbergasted while your red thread lasser is now connecting to Kai's collar.

When everyone has calm down and begin to ask more details from the dolls, your partner begins to introduce himself. "As you all probably already know, I am Kai Satou. I work as a homemaker."

"I am [Y/N]. . ."

You were still pretty upset about the info that you can't look nor speak to Kai properly. A doll Kai. It pains you that this is not the same Kai Satou you love so dearly and like salt rubbing into your wound, it hurt. Sensing your discomfort, he decides to leave you be as your group begin to explore the surroundings even though he feels the urge to stay close by your side.

Ranmaru suggests to splitting up in pairs to search each of the rooms again after a monster's attack and trap room. During those horrifying encounters, you become more protective for Kai intending to keep him safe and away from danger. No, not again. Walking next with him gives you a feeling of nostalgia and peace. You cant lose him again. Subconsciously grabbing his hand, Kai stiffened at your sudden touch, peering his eye down at your perfect intertwined hands but make no move of snatching it away.

He takes a deep breath, and wrenches his gaze away from your hand. His heart pounds heavily in his ears. Hesitantly he opens his mouth, hands still clutching at yours gently, he softly ask, ". . . if i am not wrong . . . we are a couple right? Before i died."

You nods and glaces at his breathtaking face. Prettier than any flowers the earth could create. You would gaze at Kai for all eternity, if you could. "Yes, we are and i miss you so so much dear," you reply sincerely with a warm smile on your face.

Heat crawls up his cheeks. “I . . . I miss you too sweetheart,” he shyly admits, squeezing your hand as you two smile at each others treasuring this precious moment before it end.

✧‧˚

Streamer Eren Headcanon pt 2

`❥ AU: Modern!AU

`❥ Genre: Fluff

`❥ Pairing: Streamer!Eren x Black!Reader

`❥ Warnings Include: Profanity, Established relationship, Eren is a dork

`❥ Author Note: You guys loved the first one so much I decided to do it again. Sorry if it isn't as good as the first one, I'm working on other projects at the same time

Eren met you during college and was instantly smitten

You were a foreign student studying abroad

He spent months trying to learn English just to properly talk to you

You finally cave in and go on dates with him because slfkssrlw how could you not when he's that sweet

Having said that, when you're frustrated whilst he streams, to check on you he'll switch over to English.

"Hey pretty girl whats wrong?"

"I can't find the letters for my cross word."

"....Aha lemme see."

He is trying his hardest not to laugh at your cute little scrunched up face as he helps you find the word.

During his charity streams, by popular vote, he lets you do his make up

Despite the stream being 24 hrs long people continue to watch because the interactions are too cute.

" 'Ren stay still."

"It feels moist."

"Never say that again."

"Wait. Babe. I want the thingy on my eyes."

"Thingy?"

"Yeah the sharp shit and the stuff on my lashes."

"Its called wing liner and mascara, Eren."

"Yeah that shit."

"Don't swear. Kids are watching."

"Man fuck them-"

"Yeager."

"....Ahem... sorry."

He is definitely the baddest bitch after you finish <3

Kept the make up on even after the stream finished

He may be a COD player but he does not have toxic masculinity

LOVES how he looks when pampered and whilst he'll never go out of his way to do make up or use your products; if you ever offer he's down

"What that's shit on your face?"

"It's an Indian face mask."

"It looks like throw up."

"Do you wanna try it?"

"Yes."

Once talked shit about braids not hurting that bad.

So the only natural solution was to make a bet

You styled his beautiful long hair into nice and neat cornrows (if you can't braid, take him to the africans)

He couldn't even sit through the procedure, literally got up and left midway through

"Fuck no. I like pain as much as the next guy but hell no."

"Aw baby what wrong? I thought it wasn't that bad."

Went on stream the next day to talk about the experience and why he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Everyone can tell that your relationship is serious when you accidentally broke his PS5

Like he gets absolutely livid and wants to do nothing more than yell at you

But after seeing your teary eyed expression and your broken apologies in German

He just accepts it and steps completely out of the room to keep from blowing up on you.

It takes a few days and even though you feel completely like shit, you dont bother him

He finally comes around and just holds you tightly

No words or anything

His gesture is enough to let you know he forgives you.

He gets a new one immediately and is more careful when it comes to letting you mess with alone though lmao

Decides to do the little draw my life video and moves people to tears without trying

He thought his trauma was normal pfft

While that gets to people, what really affects his audience is when he get to how you make him feel

"If I can describe Y/n with one word, I'd have to say sunshine. You know that feeling when you've seen nothing but depressing rainstorms for months at a time but just that one day, the sun pokes out and shows that the world isn't so gloomy and bad. It's actually quite beautiful. The sun manages to make those sad raindrops look like diamonds. Thats Y/n to me. She makes the days where I feel at my worst better in every way. "

Eren suffers from a couple mental illnesses which is why he donates to their respected charities

He suffers from ADHD, Depression, and Anger issues.

Now you can't just magically make all of his issues go away but you being around does soothe him in a special way

Not many people can do that and LOTS have tried

But you just manage to get him in ways he cant explain

Even the videos with all of his friends involved, his focus on you

Fans can tell when you guys are not together during streams

Eren's temper is a lot shorter and he pops off quickly.

And of course he just so happens to play "getting over it"

This is one of those times he gets cancelled

Coochie-manz63: wow ur trash

"You're literally someone who hides behind a fucking screen to talk shit but I know if I was in front of you; there would be no exchange because if you so much looked at me wrong, I would have beaten your ass into fucking next year, you dyslexic fucking waste of space. Learn how to goddamn spell before you try to talk shit again."

IloveYEAGGGGER23: Damn..

You ended up being the one to clean up his mess, yet again

"Eren is very sorry for his actions, He understands how his words can be hurtful to others.. Right babe?"

"Huh? Oh um yeah.. My bad ig."

After the apology video, you give Eren one of your famous lectures.

"Eren you can't treat others like that just because you get a little upset. Remember what your therapist said about controlling your temper. You can't just do it when I'm around, you have to do it all the time.

Now Eren loves you to pieces but your lectures just do not help his ADHD mind.

So to shut you up, he does the only thing he knows how

Takes your breath and thoughts away with his passionate kisses.

His pattern is always the same

He pretends to listen, nodding occasionally, stands up and moves closer to you.

Grabs your jaw gently and tips your head back before capturing your lips into a sheering kiss that always leaves you breathless

"What were we talking about?"

"We were just going to get some food."

You're just as weak for Eren as he is for you <3

The Extra (part 2)

Warning - smut (eventually....)

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

You were finishing up your coffee, grateful that Cillian didn't hang around after grabbing his. Suddenly you heard Anto shouting in the yard outside. You told Liane you'd find her later, and headed out to him. He was pacing the grounds on his phone, the anger evident in his face. With an abrupt "Fuck you!" down the line, he hung up, kicking a rock across the courtyard in frustration.

"Anto? What's wrong?" You approached nervously.

"We start filming in three hours, and one of the cast had dropped out!!"

"What? Who?"

"Rachel Foster. She was supposed to play Tommy Shelby's girl."

"Oh shit.."

"Oh shit in-fucking-deed. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?! I can't call someone in at this short notice!"

"I don't know anyone who's even available.." he suddenly looked at you, you squirmed a little, you recognised that look.

"You know, it's not too late to reconsider my offer y/n."

"Anto we talked about this, I'm not an actress."

"But you used to be! And you were the best I knew!"

"When you offered me a role in this I was flattered beyond belief, I truly was, but my role is as a professor now, not an actress. I gave that all up nearly a decade ago!"

"Think about it - you're here anyway! She was only meant to film this week, it's a few scenes with Tommy, nothing major.. she's not even lasting the whole series it's just a few scenes I swear it. At least let me do a casting call with you? I'll pay you for your time, even if you don't want to do it? It's win-win! I'm desperate here y/n..."

You thought about it. You enjoyed the theatre shows you used to be involved in years ago so much, but then you were offered the job at Birmingham University and it was too good an opportunity to miss - a steady wage, guaranteed income.. the thought of going back to being a struggling actress made you very nervous.

"One casting call. If it doesn't work, I'm out and you'll have to find someone else Anto."

"Oh you fucking legend... You BEAUTIFUL legend!!!" He scooped you up and spun you round in a circle, before dragging you over to costume and makeup.

An hour later, you were in costume, hair done, makeup on, ready for the camera. You stood in the set for the Garrison, Anto giving you the once over for the short scene he'd got planned for the casting call.

"Anto you didn't say anything about kissing Tommy!" You groaned, reading the paper he handed you.

"It's one kiss - we need to make sure you have chemistry. You know these scenes are always filmed first y/n."

"You fucking owe me Byrne." He grinned his cheesiest grin yet, allowing you time to get to know your lines and the scene. You were lost in it, focussing on getting yourself into a character for the first time in years.

"Y/n?" An Irish brogue suddenly dragged you out of your prep, and you nearly dropped the whiskey glass you were holding as you were practising a scene.

"Holy fuck..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you - " he held out his hand, chuckling at your outburst. "I'm Cillian. I'll be playing Thomas Shelby."

"I, uh, I know who you are, I'm Y/n..."

"I know, Anto tells me you're Rachel's replacement? Really appreciate you stepping in like this, I know it's all a bit weird. Just take your time, okay? There's no rush, and no pressure to get it perfect, just relax. I know how intense these things can be."

"Thank you. I'm sorry if I'm shit..." You laughed, your stomach in knots.

"You won't be! You wanna stop at any point, tell me. No pressure, remember that. I'm looking forward to it."

"To what? Me throwing a whiskey glass at you?"

"No, not that bit," he smiled, his blue eyes glittering in the stage lights behind you.

"Right then you two, are you ready?" Anto called, and you pulled yourself together. Taking a deep breath, the scene began.

"You promised me Thomas. You said you were going legit!! Now I find out you have guns hidden away from the fucking IRA??"

"Clara, you have to trust me! I AM going legit but I need money behind me to do it - this is our way out of here!"

"You're a fucking liar Shelby. Four years I waited for you. Four fucking years you wrote to me promising me a life of safety, no more having to watch our backs, no more Peaky fucking Blinders, and you lied through your fucking teeth!" You threw the glass, missing his face by a mere inch.

He ducked, and approached you carefully, hands out to catch your arms as they flailed around. A sudden flick of your wrist in the wrong direction caught him off guard and you hit him. Full force on the side of his cheek.

"Oh fuck!! Shit I'm so sorry!!"

"Quite the left hook you've got there!!" He laughed, regaining his composure, rubbing his face. A decent shade of red now blossoming across his cheek. Anto was in stitches the other side of the camera and you shot him a glare.

"I can't believe you've just smacked the star of the fucking show!" He laughed.

"You're certainly feisty enough for Clara's character, I'll give you that!" Cillian smirked. You were mortified.

"I really am sorry..."

"No harm done, I'm fine. I've had worse. Come on, let's finish this yeah?" You were convinced you'd screwed it up, but Anto calling Action brought you back into the scene.

Cillian cleared his throat and approached you again, you could see him trying not to laugh though and you couldn't help but giggle a little, which set him off too.

"I'm sorry, really I am!" You panicked.

"That was my fault, I was too busy watching her arms!" Cillian smiled.

"Guys I really like what I'm seeing here. There's definitely chemistry on screen. Why don't you two go rehearse a little more together and come back in 30 minutes?" Cillian nodded and turned to you.

"Fancy a coffee?" He asked. You nodded and he led you over to the trailers behind the set.

"Are we not going to the cafeteria?"

"Not unless you want to rehearse in front of your Uni class?" He smirked. You shook your head and followed him into a decent sized trailer at the back. He flicked the kettle on, telling you to take a seat while he made the coffee.

"So why did you give up the theatre? You're clearly very good, else Anto wouldn't have requested you?"

"It wasn't going anywhere. I was in the West End, Broadway, Galway.. just seemed to be bouncing around with no real direction. I wanted to get into film or TV work but the roles were in high demand. And it became very clear very quickly that I wasn't the right kind of actress the movie makers wanted as a leading lady."

"Really? Why?"

"I wasn't prepared to get my tits out at every audition like the others I guess?" You shrugged. "I auditioned for a horror movie once in Hollywood. Some big budget thing that never ended up happening anyway, but the director wanted me to audition in this skimpy little dress - barely covered my ass never mind my thighs. Wouldn't audition me unless I wore it, so I threw it at him and walked out. Kinda blacklisted from then on."

"That's horrendous? Which director?"

"Cant even remember his name now it was so long ago. It doesn't matter anyway, the movie was scrapped before production and I landed the job at the university. Secure, stable, good money - couldn't ask for more really. And the kids are so great, Cillian, full of passion and enthusiasm! They're so inspiring they really are!"

"I'm meeting some of them later, I'm looking forward to it. My youngest wants to get into the industry. Been trying to put him off for years but he's such a little showman. Exactly like I was at his age."

"Is that Jack?" You asked.

"Yeah. His mam is keen on him getting into it but she hated me going off for months on end filming. One of the reasons she divorced me last year."

"I heard about that. I'm sorry.."

"No don't be! We get on better now than we ever have. Only stayed together for the kids you know? Milk and sugar?" You nodded, and he handed you the cup.

"This scene is awkward, I've never done a scene like this before," you confessed, taking a sip.

"Like what?"

"A kiss? How do you kiss someone without actually kissing them?"

"You just do it, I guess. Once you're in character it just happens. I won't use tongues I promise - nothing personal, it's just one of my rules."

"That makes it less awkward I suppose!"

"Exactly. Although didn't stop Scarlett Johansson that one time... Nearly got me shot by the wife that one did!" You remembered that scene in Girl with a Pearl Earring and laughed.

"You know, I've learned over the years that if you do those scenes first it makes all the others much easier," he said, putting his coffee down and taking yours from you, placing it on the table next to his. He took your hands and stood you up in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

"What?"

"Not like that, I'm going to 'movie-kiss' you. Show you how it's done. Trust me - you won't feel awkward after this."

"I beg to differ..."

"Come on y/n, what have you got to lose?" My senses? You thought. My mind, maybe? You were hesitant, massively hesitant. You weren't even sure you were even going to go through with this. He glanced at his watch.

"We have five minutes, close your eyes and trust me." He nodded at you, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

His fingers back on your cheek, this was just a reenactment of the scene but those fingers felt like lightening bolts. You could sense him moving closer, and his lips brushing yours. You were almost frozen to the spot until he whispered for you to relax.

"Okay, okay... I'm relaxed.. try again.." he leaned in again, your lips meeting properly. His hand in the back of your hair pulling you a little closer. You fell into it, your hands reaching round his back. As promised, he didn't use his tongue, which felt really strange at first but you quickly got used to it. Your mouths meshed together perfectly as you found your rhythm. A few minutes of this, before he pulled away, another gentle kiss against your lips as he did.

"Wow..." You gasped, opening your eyes. If someone had told you this morning you'd be kissing Cillian Murphy by lunchtime you'd have had them commited to the local loony bin, yet here you were. He didn't speak, and his hand was still on your cheek, brushing it lightly.

"Didn't plan on making you blush so much."

"Didn't plan on kissing Cillian Murphy when I woke up this morning," you laughed.

"Ready to do that again?"

"Again?"

"Just to make sure we got it right, of course."

"Yes.. of course.." he moved in quickly, but it felt different this time. His lips crashed against yours, and you definitely felt his tongue brush your lips a couple of times but you didn't reciprocate. You both moved backwards, your thighs hitting the table behind you, coffee nearly spilling over.

"Fuck, you okay? I'm sorry.." he pulled away to make sure none had spilled on you.

"I'm fine, it didn't fall, I'm fine... I uh, I think we've got the kiss nailed down though..." You brushed your hair out of your face and looked to the floor.

"Yeah, I think you're right.." your eyes met again and you both smiled. Before he could speak though, Anto was at the door knocking.

"Ready for round 2 guys?" He called. Cillian nodded at you, and you nodded back, both of you heading out to try the scene again.

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration. 

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts. 

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others. 

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better. 

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him. 

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time. 

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine  - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries. 

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it. 

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed. 

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally. 

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

A Different Kind of Education: I Is For Impact Play (Chapter 8)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summery:  After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summery:   A new week and a new lesson, but also a new challenge. How can you possibly find the courage to talk to your professor about your period?

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, conversations about and mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, discussions of impact play including: spanking, kicking, slapping, punching, floggers, paddles, crops, whips, and canes

Words: 10,391

A/N: Better late than never, right? Big apologies for taking so long to get this one up! Once again I've had to split a single topic into multiple chapters lmao. This one is mostly the theory part of the lesson and a bit of an info dump, but the next part will focus more on the actual smut.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini 

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

You knew it was something you’d have to deal with eventually, that having your period would affect your lessons with Roger. But still you felt reluctant to broach the topic with him. It wasn’t something you generally discussed with people, especially not your professor (even if you were regularly sleeping with him). And you could already hear the lecture he’d give you about why you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell your sexual partner about your cycle, and about how he’d taught reproduction enough to not be phased by it. The problem was you weren’t really sure how you felt about having sex during it and you knew even less about whether Roger would want to. You were definitely going to have to talk to him about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to. So, wondering when the best time to bring it up would be, you checked the curriculum he’d written for you. Impact play. That was the topic for the week. Roger might consider you clueless about kink (as you’d learnt during the previous week’s munch), but you at least knew enough to know that impact play meant spanking. For a moment you were distracted from your worries about the conversation you were going to have, rather excited by what you’d just read. Spanking was one of those things you’d been expecting to try. When you thought about BDSM, spanking was the second thing to come to mind after bondage. It was one of those things Dylan had hinted at being into. A couple of times during sex he’d given your arse a slap and, though you’d never really asked for it you also hadn’t told him to stop. He never hit too hard and it added a bit of excitement so there was no harm in it. And you suspected he might be interested in pushing it further if you ever suggested as much. So, to know that Roger was going to run you through the basics of it and show you how it felt, you couldn’t help but be a bit excited. And maybe you’d be able to keep things over the clothes to start and you wouldn’t have to tell Roger about your period after all. The good thing with having an implant was that it reduced the duration of your period. It would have been nice if it stopped it entirely but at least it shortened it and made it a little lighter. So maybe you could organise a second session later in the week for the more hands on part of the lesson, and not have to explain at all. You left your apartment feeling happier and excited to see Roger that night. But you didn’t have to wait so long to see him.  

You’d barely taken two steps inside when a familiar voice called out Ms Y/L/N and you found Roger walking towards you, his hand raised in a lazy wave.  “Hi Professor,” you smiled, surprised but happy to see him, “I’m just on my way to class, what’s up?”  “Oh, in that case,” he glanced over to a group of students ambling past you, “do you have time for a meeting before you leave this afternoon?”  Your heart rate sped up at the serious way he looked at you over his glasses, “Umm sure.”  “Good. I’ll see you this afternoon then. Don’t forget.”  You nodded but a new worry had taken over your mind. There was only one reason he could want to talk to you. Your degree. If it was anything to do with his tutoring sessions then he would have just said it when you got to his place that evening. No, it must be to do with your class work. Maybe something had been wrong with your last exam? Possibilities were turning over in your mind as you resumed your path to your first class, each worse than the other. Maybe you’d misunderstood a question and gotten it completely wrong. Maybe he’d had to fail you. Maybe your overall grade had dropped. Maybe he was going to call the whole tutoring thing off because you’d gotten too distracted and done so badly on your recent assessment. You spent the entire day trying not to get too worked up about it, trying to tell yourself that if your work had slipped even a little he would have called to talk about it earlier, that if it really was as bad as failing his subject you’d have discussed it long before now. By the time your last class of the day ended you were somewhere between terrified about what Roger was going to say and relieved that you were about to find out.  

Your hand was shaking as you knocked on Roger’s office door and pushed it open at his word.   “AH, Ms Y/L/N, shut the door please and take a seat.” he said, shifting a stack of papers to the side of his desk. It was only once you were sitting that he seemed to look at you properly, “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”  “Professor I’m so sorry, I swear if something was wrong with my last exam then it wasn’t because of our lessons and I promise I’m not letting them distract me at all. I put so much time and effort into studying and if-”  “Woah, woah, hang on. No one said anything was wrong.”  Your breath caught in your throat and it seemed to take you twice as long as it normally would for you to understand what he’d said, “There’s not? Then....why am I here?”  “It’s about tonight’s tutoring session.”  “Oh?”  “I wondered if you’d be okay making a small change to the plan.”  “S-so nothing's wrong with my work?”  Roger shook his head, “Your work is impeccable Ms Y/L/N. Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d assume the worst. I had no intention of worrying you like that. I was intending to mention it this morning but you seemed to be in a bit of a rush and I didn’t want anyone to overhear so...” he gestured vaguely towards you with his hands.   You let out a relieved chuckle, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders, “What was the change you wanted to make?”  “Do you know what we’ll be focusing on this week?”  “Impact play, Professor.”  “Very good. And do you know what that entails?”  “It’s like spanking isn’t it?”  “Spanking is definitely part of it, yes.”  “Cool. But you’re not wanting to switch topic are you? Only I’ve been kind of looking forward to this one since it’s like proper BDSM stuff....or like, not that other things aren’t I just mean that spanking is part of what I initially imagined, y’know?”  Roger held up his hand to quiet you, “I understand what you mean Ms Y/L/N. And it’s not that I want to change the topic, I just wanted to change where the lesson would take place.”  “Okay...” you were a little surprised by that. Where else could he have in mind when your lessons were supposed to be secret.  “I thought we might have the first lesson here.”  “Here?!”  “Keep your voice down, Ms Y/L/N. Not here exactly, not this office. In the first-year bio room actually.”  “Why? Isn’t that kind of risky? What if someone saw?”  Roger shrugged one shoulder, “It might be, but I think what I intend to show you could be covered as a biological experiment. Let me explain,” he said upon seeing your confused face, “So, as you no doubt remember, first years do a lot of dissection of various animals, working their way up to human.”  You nodded, remembering hours spent bent over various carcases and cadavers.  “Well, I thought it might be beneficial to show you some of the impact play tools we can use, demonstrating how they work and what effects they can have, but I don’t want to demonstrate them on you straight away. Luckily, it just so happens that one of the animals my first years are studying right now is pigs, so I thought we might use a pig carcass instead. Pig and human flesh are quite similar so you should get a decent sense of how being spanked with various tools will look and the impact they would have on your skin. We can compare being spanked by hand to flogging to a crop and so on. All without experiencing any pain at all. Of course, it is a dead pig so it won’t be exactly the same and you probably won’t see the same levels of bruising you would on a living human being, but it’s a good starting point. Plus this way you could try wielding the tools too, so you can get a sense for how they feel to use them and how much force is required to make them work.”  You were taken aback by the explanation and had to stop your jaw from falling open as you listened. But Roger waited patiently for you to think it over and you quickly concluded it was a good plan. You could easily write it off as related to your dissertation if anyone saw and asked what was going on. It wasn’t at all related but Roger was about the only person who knew what topic you were researching so no one else would pick up the lie.   “Okay then, let’s have the lesson here.”  “Excellent. You really don’t mind hanging back?”  “Not at all.”  “Good. I think we should possibly wait until a little later before we start, just to let the place clear out a bit. Perhaps we could get some dinner and eat it in here before we head down to the room. You can tell me how you’re getting on with your dissertation.”  “Okay, I like that idea.”  “Shall I duck out and get us some food then? What would you like?” 

After what could only be described as a minor argument about the merits of Mexican food, you and Roger eventually settled on a nearby Greek place. He tapped the order into Uber Eats and then went to wait for the delivery out on the street so the driver wouldn’t have to find their way through the numerous carparks and laneways on campus. You ducked out to your own car to drop off your bag full of books, though you kept your laptop to make notes on. It would also make your story seem more legitimate if anyone did stumble onto the lesson and ask what was going on. The thought of the lesson made you smile. Partly because you were keen to learn about the topic but also partly because you knew there was no way sex would be part of it. Roger would definitely draw the line at fucking his student in his classroom where anyone could catch you. And if you were going to be spanking a dead pig then you wouldn’t be asked to remove clothes or anything like that. So you wouldn’t have to discuss your menstrual cycle with Roger at all. You’d just say you were busy until later in the week when your period stopped and organise the follow-up lesson then and Roger wouldn’t be any the wiser. It was perfect. That, in addition to knowing nothing was wrong with your actual schoolwork, put you in a very good mood and you could have whistled with joy as you made your way back to Roger’s office.  

By the time you’d finished eating, the sky outside the window had changed from a mix of warm pinks and yellows as the sun set and was gradually darkening the longer you watched. It was only when Roger glanced at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to seven that he decided the building would be empty enough for your lesson to start. He grabbed his own laptop as you grabbed yours and then led you along the corridor and down a set of stairs, taking you towards the back of the building where the hands-on biology lessons were held.   Roger made sure the door was shut and locked before dumping his belongings onto a desk. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, before moving to the door to a walk-in freezer at the back of the room.  Together you hoisted a large pig carcass onto a cart and wheeled it out into the main room.   Roger then ducked back into the freezer returning, after a little rummaging, with what looked to be a child’s toy crate. It was made of yellow plastic and seemed light enough that Roger had no trouble hoisting it onto one of the desks, but it was not full of children’s toys. You couldn’t see everything immediately but poking out of the top was a long black handle with a leather flap hanging off the end.   “Is that what we’ll be using then?” You were eyeing the box warily.  “Yup,” Roger began pulling the items from the box one by one, laying them out on the desk, “I brought the box in earlier and hid it down here so no one would stumble onto it. I didn’t want any awkward questions. Or to have any of them stolen since they’re mine,” he added with a chuckle.  You looked over the collection with interest, some of the objects familiar to you and some only vaguely recognisable, “Is that a hair brush?”  “It is,” Roger winked playfully, “Kink can be very D.I.Y and the back of a hairbrush makes for a good makeshift paddle. The front of the hairbrush can be fun too actually. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to go through everything individually, explain what they are and what sort of effect they have and I’ll demonstrate them on our piggy participant. There’s also a few things I don’t have which we can run through at the end, sound good?”  “Sounds great.” You sank into one of the nearby seats, pulling your laptop towards you, ready to take notes.   “Right well. Impact play is a BDSM practice where one partner strikes another for sexual gratification. As you rightly said earlier this includes spanking but there's a little more to it than just that. You can slap your partner, punch them, kick them, whip them or flog them. There’re numerous ways to play with impact and as with all BDSM it’s important to negotiate what you want before you start. Being struck can leave marks of course. Brusies, welts, scratches, right through to cuts that draw blood. For some people, the marking aspect is an important part of their enjoyment, and they might go so far as to intentionally make the marks more apparent. But whether or not you want visible marks might be influenced by your job or the season or your social life or any number of other things. Personally, the marks are secondary to why I enjoy the forms of impact play I partake in. But my feelings aside, the nature of our lessons and the secrecy required, means I won’t intentionally be marking you anywhere that isn’t easy to cover up. If you even want to try it out. You might see everything today and decide it’s not for you and that would be okay.”  “I don’t think there’s much danger of that Roger. Dylan’s spanked me a little before and I’m interested enough to try more.”  “In that case then, you should know that physical pain is part of impact play no matter what aspect you try. And it can bring up more mental pain too, depending on the individual. Which is why I want to start with testing some implements on this pig. We can go through a few things and you’ll get a sense of them and then we can talk about what you might actually want to try or if any of it seems wrong for you. I’m also going to be much more diligent with your safe word in these lessons than any before. So what is your safe word?”  “Pizazz, Roger,”  “Good. Remember you can use it whenever you need to, even today. If things get too much for you I want to know.”  “I know. I promise I’ll use it.” You were struck by how serious Roger’s tone was but understood it, after the conversation you’d had during your previous lesson. And, for the first time, you wondered if this would be a topic Roger would find hard to teach.  “Thank you. I’ll check in with you every so often, especially when we move onto the practical lesson and you’re experiencing it firsthand. So, if I ask you what your safe word is, I need you to respond as loudly and as quickly as you can. It’s a way for me to gauge how well you’re coping and to make sure you’re still capable of using it.”  “That makes sense.”  Having assured himself of your understanding, Roger took a deep breath and smiled again, “Well, I have a range of different implements you can use here today but we’ll start with the most basic,” he held his two hands in front of him, palms towards you, fingers wiggling, “Hands.”  You smiled at his showmanship but your gaze lingered on the offered view. His hands had always seemed quite lovely, even when he was just teaching you biology. The way they moved so delicately as he demonstrated necessary scientific processes for the class, or rapidly twirled pens around his fingers to impress new students. Of course, you’d felt them too since you’re first private lesson, the way he caressed you and held you. His fist tightening in your hair and his fingers plunging into you and making you moan and the way he’d gently stroke your skin as you were both regaining your breath. You were excited to feel the power in them as he spanked you.   “Spanking is entry level impact play. Everyone and their mother has heard of it. It’s a common thing to see in pornography and even in Hollywood movies when they want to show sex as kinky. And because you don’t need more than your hands it’s easy to experiment with. Do you want to see what it looks like?”  You nodded and Roger stepped closer to the pig, angling himself so you could see.   Suddenly there was the sound of a clap as Roger’s palm hit the pig’s flesh.   “See how my hand was open and my palm was flat?” Roger demonstrated again but slower so the hit barely made a sound, “But what if I do this?” He hit the pig again but changed the position of his hand. The sound of his hand colliding with the pig was deeper the second time around, “If you cup your hand, curve it slightly, you can change the way the spank feels and sounds. Just like clapping.”  You experimentally clapped your hands together, first with open palms and then with each hand cupped so that the fingers wrapped around the back of the other.  “Now you give the pig a try.”  Feeling a surge of nervously excited butterflies, you got out of your seat and took your place at the pig. With a breath and a swallow you quickly brought your hand down. The slapping sound seemed to echo in the quiet room but it wasn’t as crisp as the noise Roger’s hits had made. With a look to Roger for permission, you tried it again, creating a slightly more impressive sound.  “Good, now cupped?”  You did it again, curving your fingers in a bit and bringing it down again. It felt more awkward than the open palm hit had so you repositioned yourself to hit the pig from a slightly different angle and tried once more.  “Don’t be afraid to pull your arm back further. The more your rear back, the more force will be in the spank. Like this,” he pulled his hand back past his ear and swung down hard, the spank echoing around you. “Of course, you can also spank from a nearer point too. Spanking, and a lot of impact play, is best if you mix it up a bit, don’t stay in one rhythm too long, do some spanks with your fingers spread, or change how hard or fast they are. I might give a sub two or three hard hits each with a pause between but then I’ll switch to a more rapid series of spanks that don’t have as much force behind them but come faster.”  You nodded and experimented with taking your arm back further, testing out ways to change the strength of each spank, until Roger finally called you to stop.  “How did that feel?” he asked as you took your seat again.  “My hand tingles.”  “That’s normal,” Roger laughed, “in fact it’s one thing I really enjoy about spanking by hand. The sub isn’t the only one who feels the spanks, the dom gets some of the pain in his hand too, especially if the intensity ramps up or there's a section of quick-fire spanks. And that can a) help the dom understand what the sub is feeling and work out how long the scene should go and b) brings a sort of intimacy to the scene that is harder to achieve with a tool.”  You hummed as you noted down what he’d said, “Have you ever spanked someone so much you injured your wrist or anything?”  “No.” Roger shook his head, amused by the question, “My wrists are pretty sturdy. But a few times I’ve been left with a stingy, tingly hand for an hour or two. Which brings me to an important note about pain. There are two main types of pain you can experience in impact play. We refer to them as thuddy and stingy.”  “Thuddy and stingy? What is this, an afternoon kids show?”  Roger rolled his eyes, “The names are simple but they explain exactly what they mean. Some types of impact will have a stingy sensation which is usually superficial. It won’t go deeper than the first few layers of skin and probably leaves the skin feeling warm and a little tingly or like sunburn, y’know? It’s typical of spanks and slaps. Thuddy pain is deeper, it gets into the fat and muscles and tissue and aches more. And I’ll go through which tools cause which sort of pain as I get to them. Generally though, people who enjoy impact play have a preference for one or the other.”  “And your preference is what?”  “Thuddy. Definitely. Although I prefer inflicting stingy.”  You hummed thoughtfully.  “Now, I’ll go into details about ways to actually incorporate spanking into a scene later. We can talk about it while we’re negotiating our scene. Today is just about the practicalities and sensations involved in the different types of impact play. So are you okay to move on?”  “Yup, definitely.” And then, sensing Roger might ask, you added, “Pizazz.” feeling pleased when you saw him smile. 

“I don’t expect us to delve too deep into them but I think I should touch on kicking, punching and slapping. Kicking and punching are things I’ve not done. They can, obviously, be quite painful. But they’re pretty self-explanatory. From what I understand about it, and what I’ve heard others who enjoy that kind of thing say, kicking and punching can both be very intimate, similar to the way spanking by hand is, but in a more primal or animalistic way. Punching is, of course, done without any accessories but kicking often includes footwear of some kind. A lot of time it’s something like a steel-toed boot or something with a bit of weight to it.”  “That isn't something I want to try.” You’d learnt a lot about how far kink went so weren’t completely shocked that some people would enjoy something as forceful as kicking, but it did take you by surprise to hear Roger talking about it.  “What about slapping?”  “How is that different to spanking?”  “Well, you’re right, they are similar. But slapping generally refers to slapping on the face whereas spanking is usually on the, uh, derriere. Of course you can slap or spank other parts too. For clarity’s sake, if I say slapping assume I mean on the face whereas spanking is anywhere else on the body.”  You thought about it for a second, “I’m not sure if I’d be game to try it but I do want to know more.”  “Slapping can be fun. Again, it’s not one I do a lot but I have played with it in the past. It comes in handy for particular scenes and there’s a fairly bratty sub I’ve worked with who responds really well to it. The most important thing to know is that if you are slapping someone’s face only ever aim for the cheeks. There’s a lot of fragile places around the face and it’s close to the brain so you need to be careful not to do any lasting damage. Never hit the temples because you hit them with enough force and it can kill a person. Nose and ears are off limits too, anything that is important.  You knew enough about biology to know Roger wasn’t making those rules up for fun. Noses were easy to break and hitting an ear too hard could damage someone’s hearing. But face slapping did still intrigue you. 

“Well, I’d say the next – let's call it the next level – of impact play is paddling.” He picked up what looked to be a wooden plank with a handle. It was an inch or two longer and wider than his hand with small holes cut out in a repeating pattern over the flat side so you could look right through it. “They don’t always look like this. Paddles come in lots of different shapes and sizes. This is a wooden one but they’re also frequently made of leather and sometimes the leather ones will have one side that’s a little more padded than the other. That gives you a bit of versatility with the pain. You can start off lightly with the padded side to get you in the zone and then during the scene switch it to the firmer side that hurts more. Or, if you don’t have access to a paddle at all, you can substitute a hairbrush.” He picked the hairbrush up and waved it back and forth.  “And that-” you pointed at the hair brush, “will feel the same as that?” you pointed at the wooden paddle, not quite able to reconcile the two in your mind.   “Not exactly the same but close. Honestly you can get really creative with impact play and not spend any money to get nearly the same results. I mean a plastic hairbrush might take a few extra hits or a little more force to really bruise someone but they’ll still end up sore from it. Or, if the hairbrush doesn’t do it for you, dig through your draws and see what else you can find. Wooden spoons, cutting boards, rulers, leather belts, spatulas, rolling pins, ping pong paddles, anything you can get your hands on. Just be mindful of how easily they’d break or them causing more pain than you expect.”  Again, you weren’t necessarily surprised by the lengths people would go to for sexual gratification, as Roger had put it, but it was a bit astounding. Still, you noted it all down just in case.   “Now a paddle generally falls under the stingy category but you do tend to get a deeper bruise than with your hand. Different factors could alter the way it feels too. If you put less force into it the pain will fall more on the thuddy side, same goes for if your hits are slower. But the pain call also be influenced by the size of the paddle, the material it’s made out of, the texture of it.”  “Texture?”  “Sometimes paddles have added texture, so they aren’t just a smooth, flat board. They might have metal studs that are more raised than the surface of the blade – the part you hit with – or ridging that will imprint the skin. This one has holes in it which definitely changes the feeling, makes it more intense. As you strike and the blade hits, the holes do two things. They stop any air cushions forming that would lessen the impact and they sort of push the skin into the holes which means the pain isn't completely even along where was hit. Plus it also leaves these cool circle marks behind which is fun.”  You realised you’d held your breath through the explanation, eyes following the paddle as Roger waved it through the air and ran his hands over it unconsciously. You hoped he had something more beginner friendly at home, though you couldn’t pretend you weren’t turned on by the way he wielded his weapon.  “Using it is quite similar to spanking but your hand isn’t hitting, it’s holding onto the paddle handle. So you just pull back,” Roger’s arm went back and the paddle swung backwards,” and then hit,” he swung his arm forward, the paddle cutting through the air and landing directly against the soft flesh of the pig. It made a satisfying thwack sound on impact and when Roger’ brought it back again you could see the circular patterns he’d talked about.   He demonstrated a few more times before he handed the plank to you.   It was heavier than you’d been expecting, solid wood, but the handle fit into your palm comfortably. You ran your hands over the flat part, what Roger had called the blade, and felt the holes with your fingers. The weight made it a little hard to swing but not impossible. You managed to mark the pig as well, stroking the circular imprints with your fingers.  “Try the hairbrush,” Roger said, swapping it for the paddle.  Its handle wasn’t quiet as long, but it was lighter and you found your hits were harder with it, without you even trying.   “Something to be aware of if you use an ordinary household item, or even just a different sort of impact toy. Because it’s lighter you can pull it back further and swing harder. A dom has to be aware of how much is going into each hit and how much their sub can handle.” 

“So what’s after paddles?”  “Floggers.” Roger picked his up off the table, “This is a fairly typical flogger. As you can see it’s made of black leather. It has the handle which is the thickest part and then a number of smaller tails. The tails is where you get the most variation which can be a stylistic choice or just a side effect of its price and overall quality. There’s a trick for knowing if a flogger is good quality or not. It should be pretty evenly balanced between the handle and the tails, so you should be able to do this,” he held out a finger and balanced the flogger on it carefully, the handle pointing out one way and the tails dangling over the other.   You thought for sure it would tip forward onto the tails and tumble to the ground but it hung there perfectly.  “Sometimes there will be more tails or they'll look different but no matter what, it should be balanced.” Roger gave a practiced flick of his hand so the flogger leapt into the air and he was able to catch the handle before it fell. “From a more stylistic point of view, you could get a flogger with less tails but they’ll be made of braids of leather which makes them heavier and thicker. Braided tails are also likely to have knots in the ends which can be a bit scratchy and even draw blood. They don’t have to be made of leather either. Rubber floggers are also popular. The tails on them tend to be more rectangular in shape, still flat but they have more edges and it actually feels like you’re being hit with more tails then there really are. And if you’re looking to really fuck someone up you can get hemp floggers. Sometimes they’ll look similar to this leather one but hemp is fairly stiff material and sometimes the tails will be shaped so that they’re sort of squiggly rather than flat lines. The squiggles hurt like a bitch, especially if they have knots at the end. Definitely start off with simple leather and work up once you’re more experienced.” Roger dragged the ends of the tails over his hand as he spoke, “I’d say this falls into the more thuddy type of pain. It can cover a large area of your body since the tails spread out and each of them creates an individual pain point. And because you’re being hit six or seven or nine or however many times at once, you can build up quite a rapid movement over a short period of time.”  You eyed the dancing tails as Roger moved his hand through them, “How long are the tails? Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have so many bits flying in all directions?”  Roger laughed, “Well yeah, kinda. I mean, that’s BDSM for you though, it gets dangerous which is why we’re all obsessed with safety. It’s a good thing to have noticed though, well done. The tails on this one are on the shorter side but some floggers will have much longer ones which means the dom can stand further back and still inflict a lot of pain. But you’re right, you do have to be mindful of the length and where they’re flying because a longer tail can potentially wrap around to somewhere you aren’t intending to hit. For instance, if you’re standing behind a person and flogging the back of their shoulder, you don’t want one of the tails to fly past their shoulder and around their neck. That would be incredibly painful and probably not what they expected or wanted from the scene.”  “So you have to take into account the length of the tails when you’re negotiating the scene then? And know where on the body to focus the hits so you don’t risk causing the wrong sort of pain and ending it early.”  “Exactly. That’s why negotiating the scene is important. Then both the dom and the sub will know what they want to achieve, what they want to get out of the experience, and they can tailor things to fit better. A lot of doms who are into impact play are likely to have multiple versions of their favourite toys – I myself have a few different paddles at home, I just didn’t bring them all in with me today – so by talking through what you want they’ll be able to choose the style of toy that will best fit the scene.”  “So how do you use a flogger then? Is it the same as spanking and paddling where you just swing your arm forward?”  “Sort of. Floggers have a few different ways to use them. There is of course the single strike option where, yeah, you do just hit them like you would with a paddle. I find that you don’t need to bring your arm back so far though, the movement comes from your elbow more than your shoulder.” Roger bent his arm so his hand and the flogger were roughly head height and then brought it down on the pig, “And you can change the angle of your single strike so that you hit them overhand or underhand or from one of the sides.” He demonstrated each direction as he said them, first bringing the flogger down from above, then swinging it up from below, then from the right side and finally a backhanded hit from the left. “But you don’t have to just pick a side to hit from. Paddles and hands are limited in how you can swing them but floggers have more movement. One way to use them is to swing them in a circle.” He moved back towards the pig to demonstrate, standing side on so that the tails whipped around and struck the pig, “I like starting off with circles because you can keep the pressure quite light. The tails sort of brush over the sub as they pass and it can be a good way to slowly build up. And then you can move into a figure eight as you get a bit harder.” Roger shifted his circles so they made a sideways eight in the air, subtly adjusting his stance so that the tail swished over the pig’s skin on both the forward and back motion.   You watched, awe-struck by how easily Roger swung the flogger, falling into a rhythm quickly. It wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d suddenly change the speed or the force of the swing when you were least expecting it.  

You were brought back to the present by Roger clearing his throat as he stilled the flogger, “The figure eight is why you should practice your backhand swing as much as any other. Because the tails will hit the sub on both the forward and back swings and you want them to be as even as possible.” He flipped the flogger in his hands, holding the handle out to you.   It felt smooth and cool in your hand, lighter than the paddle had been. You swished it experimentally, trying to get a sense of how it felt in motion.”  “Show me your overhand hit.” Roger said, leaning back against the nearest desk to watch.   You tried to imitate how he’d swung it, elbow bent, flogger raised.   It must have been good enough because Roger nodded and said, “how about underhand?”  He kept calling out different directions for a while, testing your reactions but you felt it helped you get a better grip on the toy and you found yourself adjusting how you held it so your movements became more fluid.   Roger watched you as you tried to keep up, his eyes locked onto your hands. Had you been looking, you might have caught sight of him subtly adjusting himself in his pants.   Finally, he seemed satisfied that you could successfully single strike from any direction and asked you to try the circle and figure eight motions.  They were harder to start, more awkward as you tried to work out the best way to move the flogger, and you caught Roger chuckling.”  “Oi, stop laughing,”  “Do you want some help?” he was still smiling but his request was genuine and when you nodded he stepped towards you. One of his hands moved to your waist as the other lay over yours on the handle of the flogger.  You tried not to grin too much as he did exactly why you’d hoped, and you felt him so close behind you.  “Like this,” His arm gently directed yours, the flogger beginning to move in a smooth circle.   “Oh, not so hard then,” you laughed, half turning to face him, “Y’know if someone walked in now this would be pretty hard to explain.”  His eyes darted to your lips, “Good thing we locked the door then.”  You hummed, waiting to see if Roger would close the gap.  He did a few seconds later, leaning in to kiss you softly. But the movement caused you both to forget about the flogger, your hands falling out of rhythm, and the tails whacking against your outstretched arms as they fell.   “Ow,” you both groaned, Roger stepping away from you.  It was disappointing but the disappointment was a little confusing. Surely you weren’t hoping for your professor to kiss you when you had no intention of sleeping with him that night.   Roger laughed, “Maybe that’s enough of the flogger today.”  “Might be for the best. Good thing I was so bad at it, otherwise we might have been really hurt.”  “You weren’t that bad. You actually looked good with it before I brought in the circles. Quite sexy really.”  “Thanks,” you said softly, trying to hide how pleased you were at that praise, “What else is there then?” 

“There's only one more that I can demonstrate but then there’s a few others I’ll touch on quickly too. So the last one I own is a crop.” He picked it up off the table, his fingers sliding along the length of it’s handle as he spoke, “This one I would put in the stingy category. It’s fast and sharp. Again, you can get crops in a few different styles. They will all have a handle like this, long and thin and probably with a slightly thicker point towards the end that’s easy to hold onto. The difference will be in the bit you hit with. This one is based on the sort of riding crop that's used on horses, so it’s quite plain. There’s just this loop of leather which hangs off the end. But others can be more decorative. I’ve seen crops which had ends shaped like hearts or that had studs pushed into them. Some of them are padded and some have a more rounded shape. We like our variety.”  “It looks scarier than the others I think,”  “Yeah, they’re quite intimidating aren’t they. And if you do it right, it’ll make a noise through the air, which just adds to how intimidating it can be.”  “Can you show me how to swing it now?”  “Absolutely. Now, you want to stand a bit further back with a crop because there is such a long handle. And the magic is in the wrist with these. You just flick the wrist and...”  You could hear the whooshing sound of it flying through the air before it cracked against the pig.  “Now some crops are more bendy and some are more stiff so, if you get one, you’ll want to practice swinging it a bit before you use it on a person, to get a feel for it. The flexibility of it might dictate how you stand or how strong the swing has to be. Give this one a go though.”  You felt oddly powerful as you took the crop and tightened your fist around the end. For a moment a vision of you decked out in leather dominatrix gear popped into your head and you nearly laughed. Unfortunately, the intimidating whooshing noise Roger had achieved was not as easy for you to make as you’d hoped, and the imagined power soon dissipated as you struggled to make the weapon sing.   Roger however was not disappointed. “It takes practice,” was what he said when you lamented your inability to create the sound, “And you don’t have to have the sound to make a good hit. It’s just kind of cool.”  When you still seemed disappointed he sighed.  “If it’s any help, I can’t always make the sound either. And besides, I wasn’t intending to use that one on you, unless you really, really want to. I mostly brought it to show you as an interesting part of your theory lessons. And so you’d have a sense of what a cane is like, even though I don’t have any of them to demonstrate.”  “A cane? Like....caning? Like what Victorian kids used to have done if they misbehaved or whatever?”  Roger laughed, “Kind of, yeah. It does have a history in corporal punishment. Which, might I add, wasn’t just for Victorian kids. It was still a thing when I was a kid. We didn’t get caned, more likely to be whacked over the knuckles with a ruler, but still. I don’t think it really left schools until the 80s.”  “Jesus,”  “Yeah. Occasionally I do wish I could bring out a ruler to shut a kid up,” he winked in jest, “Anyway, caning for BDSM is similar and uses the same sort of tool. A cane, funnily enough. Canes are long and thin like a crop but without the leather flap at the end or the more padded handle area. Traditionally they’re made from rattan which is a type of plant, but you can also get synthetic canes which are covered in leather. In my experience synthetic canes are actually harder. Not to use, I mean in the way they feel when you’re hit with them. The traditional rattan ones require a lot of maintenance though. You have to water them between uses, literally soaking them in a bath of water so they don’t dry out and break. But the benefit with a rattan cane is that if you get it home and realise you’d like something a bit shorter, you can cut it off yourself and just sandpaper down the rough edge and it’s good as new.”  “So are there any different version aside from synthetic? All the other toys had lots of variety.”  “Hmmm, not really. Most of the difference will be in how thick the cane is, which can effect the feel of it a lot. A thinner cane will sting when it hits and the force will make the skin hug the cane so it leaves these long marks behind. A thicker cane though might sting less but it’ll still hurt a lot, just more thuddy. And you tend to get more bruising from the thicker ones.”  “And do you use it the same as a crop?”  “Mostly, yes. The biggest difference is that you can use a larger section of a cane. The crop has the specific bit at the end to hit with whereas a cane doesn’t have that limit. The most important thing to remember is to try and aim a little short of where you want to hit because if you hit with a part of the cane six inches down, those top six inches are going to hit as well, and with force behind them they will wrap around the person’s side or arse or whatever until they make contact. But other than that, it’s a similar motion from the wrist and uses a similar amount of energy. And canes can make the cool whippy noise too.” 

“Is that everything then?”  “One last one, really quick. Whips.”  “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of whipping in kink.”  “Yeah, it’s one of those things that gets mentioned a lot even if comparatively fewer people are actually into it. But everyone’s heard the phrase chains and whips in relation to BDSM. There's a few different varieties of whips but I don’t really know enough about them to know the difference. They all look like whips to me. Very cowboy. But they’re one of the more intense versions of impact play. The pain they cause is quite sharp and stingy and will be very localised to a specific point because they have the one tail, as opposed to floggers which have multiple tails. Whips are very capable of breaking the skin though and feel very intensely painful. I do not recommend them unless you discover you’re a masochist and you’ve tried everything else impact play has to offer.”  “No need to tell me twice, Professor. Definitely do not want to try whips any time soon.”  “That’s very reasonable. And that is all of the impact play options I wanted to go through. There’s a little more to cover regarding safety before I let you go for the night, but how about we put the pig away and hope no one notices it’s been marked by crops and floggers.”  You chuckled and quickly moved to help Roger push the trolley back towards the freezer, locking the dead pig away securely, and to help pack up his toys.  When everything was tidy again you re-took your seat, Roger taking the one beside you. It made the end of the lesson feel less like a lesson and more of just a casual chat, the topic of which happened to be BDSM.   “The most important thing to remember when trying impact play is which parts of the body are safest to hit.” He paused for a moment, considering you, “But you’ve been studying biology for a while now, Ms Y/L/N. Care to guess which parts are safe and which parts you should avoid?”  You hadn’t expected to be asked so took a moment to consider your answer, “Well, the arse obviously. Ummm.... I guess I’d assume the best places to hit are the bits with more meat on them.”  “Very good. Entirely correct. There’s a reason most people think about spanking on the arse and that’s because it’s one of the best places to spank. Well, that and the fact that spanking is used so frequently in punishment scenes where you bend the naughty girl over your knee. But, yes, hitting the arse is good. Hitting the thighs can also be good, though the bit just under the arse cheek where it connects to the thighs hurts a lot. Which isn’t to say don’t ever spank there, just be mindful that it’s going to hurt more than directly on the arse cheeks. The pecks or breasts can be good places to hit, even the upper back where the shoulder blade is can be good. What about places to avoid hitting? Any ideas what those might be?”  You hummed in thought, “I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to hit the spine since it’s so important.”  “Right again Ms Y/L/N. The spine is definitely something to avoid. I don’t like hitting on the back much at all because there's too much important stuff there but I do know some others who don’t mind using a flogger there, especially while warming up before things get too intense. There are also the kidneys to watch out for,” he moved his hand to press against the spot on his own back, “because, as you no doubt know, part of the kidneys stick out under the ribcage so aren’t fully protected. Then a little lower down, just above the arse, is the tailbone which should also be avoided.   “What about the neck? That would be bad to hit too, right?”  “Yup. And that’s something to watch for if you’re doing anything on the shoulder blades. The spine of course runs all the way up the back of the neck and hitting there can do some very serious and lasting damage if you’re not careful. I know some people who will only flog the shoulder blades if the sub is wearing a collar because that adds a bit of protection around the C5 and C6 vertebrae but even so, better safe than sorry in my opinion. The front of the neck is also not good to hit since that’s where the vocal cords and all that is.”  “Which is why you have to be careful with a flogger’s tails, right?”  “Right. But what about on the front? Is there anywhere else you’d avoid?”  “Pussy,” you said with a laugh.  Roger laughed too, “Actually, depending on how it’s done, spanking a pussy can be quite enjoyable.”  “Wait really?”  “Yeah. I prefer doing it with my hand since you can feel when it makes the sub wet but it’s not totally unusual to use paddles or crops or even floggers down there too. I’m sure some people whip as well.”  You gulped at the thought.  “The biggest area to avoid on a person’s front side is the diaphragm and middle of the chest. There’s a lot of important stuff in there and a lot less tissue than elsewhere.”  “Do people get badly hurt doing impact play?” you glanced over the list of places Roger said to avoid. It made it seem like almost any spanking was running the risk of more than just some bad bruising.   “Sometimes.” Roger said seriously. He paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, “Things can go wrong. And when you’re playing with intentionally hurting someone, things going wrong can be very serious. I won’t pretend there aren’t stories of people trying impact play and ending up paralysed or worse. But if you’re careful, if you pay attention and only hit certain areas and are mindful of how hard you’re hitting, then you’re going to be fine. And that’s why we come up with safe words and talk through scenes before we do them. So that you can minimize those risks and have a chance to communicate any worries or concerns.”  “But how can safe words help if you say them after you’ve already been hurt too much?”  “Well, for one, even if you’ve been hurt badly, using your safe word can stop things from being made worse. But you don’t have to wait until you’re hurt to use the safe word. Yes, if I spank you four times in a row and the fourth one feels so bad you can’t go on, then you should use your safe word before I give you a fifth. But you could also use it after the third hit when you aren’t sure if you want the fourth. And safe words aren’t just about physical pain. If you start off excited but then feel anxious after two hits you are well within your rights to safe word. You don’t have to wait until the damage is done. And, obviously, it’s not always easy to tell if that one hit more is going to be enough to make you want to stop. You can’t always know if the next hit is going to catch your neck wrong and do serious damage. But if you feel at all worried that it might, speak up. Not just worried either. If you feel distracted or you think I’m not paying enough attention to how I’m spanking you, or if I move to spank and area you don’t want me to touch, tell me. There is no wrong reason to use a safe word, even if we’re only a few minutes into the scene. I’ve said before that I’d rather you tell me to stop than for us to go on and you not feel comfortable, and I mean it.”  “I know, I guess I just never really thought about it being for mental stuff as well as physical.”  “Mmm, I should have checked that.”  “Well, let’s face it, you probably tried and I just didn’t pay attention. But, y’know, you’re very good at reassuring me when I start to get nervous.”  “I hope that’s a good thing.”  “It definitely is. I think if I didn’t have the reassurance, I’d chicken out of some things.”  “As long as you’re aware of the difference between some healthy nerves and anxiety that could be a sign you should slow down. And that you keep telling me how you’re feeling.”  “Of course I will.”  “Good girl.” 

An understanding seemed to pass between you as you sat in near silence, eyes on the other. Until Roger drew in a long breath and stood up.  “Right well, I think that’s just about everything. Obviously we weren’t able to see the levels of bruising that different implements can cause but it’s kind of dependent on the individual anyway. Everything can influence the severity of bruises and other marks. Tell me what a bruise is.”  “It’s broken blood vessels under the skin which cause discolouration.”  “Bingo. Now, obviously being spanked with a hand will leave less obvious bruises than being hit with a crop will and usually a paddle will bruise less than....i don’t know, a leather belt. But there's lots of factors to consider. The sub’s age, diet, the colour of their skin, their hydration level, how much sun exposure they’ve had recently, stress levels, hormones. And the biggest of all is how much stimulus they receive on that part of the body. The more you hit a spot, the deeper it will bruise. So, don’t expect bruises and marks to appear exactly the same every time you make them. There are some ways to heighten or lessen marks left during BDSM, but I’ll go through those when you’re ready for our practical lessons. And we’ll also go through some ideas for popular scenes and positions before we settle on what our scene will look like.” Roger seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, “Of course, it’s not so late we have to stop. If you did want to start testing out some light impact play, or if you wanted to revisit a previous topic, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine.”  “No,” you said much too fast, the suggestion catching you completely off guard.  “Okay, no problem,” Roger said, his eyes downcast.  “I didn’t mean...just that tonight’s not great timing.” You’d really thought you’d got out of having to talk about it but you could see Roger was going to ask what you were talking about when on a regular tutoring night you’d likely still be in his bed. All the same you couldn’t quite make eye contact as you explained, “My period started last night, that’s all. Makes things a bit awkward.”  “Oh is that all?”  You shrugged, “Yeah.”  “Well there’s no need to feel awkward or embarrassed about that. And there’s no reason to hide it from me. Aside from the fact that I’ve been married and had kids, I’ve also been teaching biology for longer than I care to count, so I’m very familiar with the reproductive processes and the reality of the menstrual cycle.”  “I knew you were going to say something like that.”  “Because it’s true. And besides, periods are important to factor into our lessons because they can change how you’ll respond to various kinks. Fluctuating hormone levels can change how much you enjoy or desire sex, as well as the physical sensation of different forms of touch. A lot of women find breast stimulation uncomfortable in the lead up to their period because their breasts become tender at that stage of their cycle. It can also make vaginal sex undesirable, at least in the first couple of days if not longer, whether because of a physical discomfort or pain, or just because it makes sex messier and more annoying to clean up after. The hormonal shifts in a menstrual cycle can also effect libido too, either stopping you from feeling aroused or causing hyper arousal. And all of that is important to consider, especially when we get to other things like orgasm denial. So, don’t feel you have to hide your periods from me, okay? I want to know if something is going to effect how enjoyable these lessons are for you. And plus, I factored periods into the timeline, remember? If you want to postpone for a week we can.  His little speech did put you at ease a bit, the weight of admitting the truth no longer as heavy now that he knew, but it still wasn’t an especially comfortable conversation, “Well, I should be okay to go in a few days.”  “Would you be up for having sex on one of the last days of your period when your flow is a little lighter? Or would you rather wait until after it was finished?”  You tried not to cringe too much upon hearing Roger talk about your flow, “After I think. I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”  Roger shrugged, “If we were just having sex without the kinky stuff I’d be okay with period sex. It’s a little more effort since we’d need to put towels down and all that but I’m not completely opposed to it if we’re both in the mood. However, I think since we’re playing with BDSM it’s probably a good idea to wait.”  You nodded, glad the topic was almost settled, “Yeah, that makes sense. I think I’d feel too self-conscious to enjoy any period sex but you’re definitely right about the BDSM stuff. Just makes it easier for my first time trying things out if I’m not worrying about, um, bleeding everywhere.”  Roger gave you a reassuring smile which made your heart flutter, grateful he hadn’t made things too difficult or drawn out, “That’s settled then. We can put a pin in all of this for now and come back to it when you’re ready.”  “Thanks. Will Friday suit? I think I should be right by then.”  “Friday sounds great.”  “Really? You don’t have to, like, pick up the kids or anything?”  Roger shook his head, amused, “No. It is technically my weekend with them but they’re both staying at friend’s placed over night so I won’t see them until Saturday. Friday we can start testing some things and if we need to, we can come back next Monday and go through more. And I finish a bit earlier on Fridays so maybe we could start a bit earlier.”  “Yeah that works for me.”  “Great. I guess we should get out of here then.” Roger ushered you from the classroom and walked beside you all the way to the carpark, your footsteps echoing down the corridors. He chatted to you quietly about non-kinky topics, as if you’d merely ended up walking the same direction by accident, just in case anyone was looking.   You were almost sad to reach your car, drawing the conversation to an end, “This is me.”  “One last thing, Ms Y/L/M.”  “Mmm?”  “For homework-”  “Homework?”  “Yes. For homework I want you to watch some porn with impact play in it. You’ll find a few examples linked in a document I’ve dropped in our folder but feel free to find your own too. It can be spanking by hand or flogging or any other form of impact we discussed today, whatever turns you on most. Because I want you horny when I see you on Friday. I want you to spend all week thinking about naughty sluts who get spanks, knowing you’ll soon be one of them. I want you excited to be hit and wet at the thought of me spanking your arse and cunt while I fill your holes with cock. Is that clear?”  Roger had leant closer as he talked and your stomach did a backflip as he stood up. All you could do was nod, completely lost for words as Roger chuckled and walked into the dark towards his own car.   

Star Crossed Lovers (part 14)

Do my eyes deceive me???? part 14???? we did it. im so sorry its taken forever, i will try my best to be more consistent with my writing. love yall for being patient with me it means the most. thank you, thank you. 

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

warnings: angst, swearing (lots of it) 

taglist: @drmmyrs @cloud9in @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @fall3ngods @helpconfusedpersonhere @clowneryme @dopeyouth @boys-girls-i-cant-help-it-baby @vonda-b-real @uselesslesbianfr @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings @somethindarker (sorry again if ive missed anyone, if you wanna be added on this taglist or my general one just let me know 😊) 

word count: 4k (i feel like its short considering how long it took me to write but i still hope you guys enjoy) (also i didnt check for grammatical errors properly so sorry if you find any) 

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13

The first steps to moving on 

“Bea please,” Poppy whispers, a repentant look creeping up to her face as she looks away from her girlfriend. “It can’t wait.” 

Bea sighs, her shoulders slumping as the last remains of her anger disseminates from her body. “Okay fine, lead the way babe.” 

Poppy stiffens that the pet name but she doesn’t let her awkwardness slip as she leads Bea to a secluded classroom, far away from prying eyes. Both her and Bea turn to look at each other, and both simultaneously open their mouths to talk. 

“I know you wanted to tell-” 

“We need to talk-” 

Both clamp their lips shut, a mutual smile playing on their lips as they look at one another. 

“You go first,” Poppy gestures towards Bea, as she moves to sit on the edge of a desk. 

Bea inhales softly, her tongue darts out licking her lips as she looks down at the ground, her face calculating. “Why does Chloe hate me?” She looks up to Poppy, her eyes boring into the strawberry blonde’s, sadness swimming inside of them, “I just don’t get what I’ve done for her to hate me.” 

Poppy sighs heavily, her eyes awkwardly darting away from Bea’s. “It’s complicated Bea.” 

“Complicated?” Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “I almost just went off on Chloe after she gave her condolences for my mom dying because I just felt she wasn’t genuine and you wanna tell me it's complicated?” 

Poppy sharply inhales, contemplating for a few moments before saying, “it’s because of your mom.” 

Bea scrunches her brows up in confusion, “my mom? What the hell does she have to do with this?” 

Poppy ineptly plays with her hands, not being able to look Bea in her eyes, “at first it was just a classist thing. When you first came to Belvoire, she just wanted to make herself feel superior over you, but in the last year you’ve noticed her getting more mean right?” 

“Right.” Bea stares at Poppy, her expression emotionless. 

“Chloe’s parents have been fighting non stop recently, and it’s been affecting her a lot.” 

Bea’s brows furrow in confusion, “what does that have to do with me or my mom?” 

“Just let me explain first before you react, please.” Bea’s eyes bore into Poppy’s for a few seconds before she nods understandingly. “Her dad cheated on her mom. A lot of times actually. But he was blackmailed by one of the women he slept with.” Poppy pauses for a few seconds, “your mom.” 

Bea lets out a shaky breath, her eyes blinking in disbelief, “no, you’re lying.” 

Poppy nervously bites her bottom lip, “look Bea-” 

“How long have you known?”

Poppy’s face scrunches up in anger, “this isn’t my fault Bea. I only found out that day I went to talk to Chloe about us. Chloe made me promise not to say anything to you-” 

“Poppy! My mom OD and I don’t even know why. And now you’re telling me she was blackmailing the St James family and it doesn’t occur to you that might have had something to do with her death?” 

“They’re not the fucking mafia Bea, jesus. They were trying to settle it quietly by giving your mom some money and make her sign some stuff so she couldn't threaten them anymore.” 

The devastating ramification of Poppy’s admission hangs in the air as the two girls let the words settle into them. “Chloe really is sorry about your mom Bea, we all are.” 

Bea sighs, staring off into space, as a few tears begin to fill up in her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.” Bea begins sniffling, but Poppy makes no movement to console her girlfriend. Bea notices and her expression sobers, “so, uh what did you wanna tell me?” Bea sniffs a few more times, before looking up at Poppy, giving her a small encouraging smile. 

Poppy looks away, guilt creeping up on her face, as she tries her damndest not to catch Bea’s small smile on her face. “Bea…”. Bea carefully assesses her girlfriend’s demeanour, noticing the similar body language during when they first asked to take a break, she thinks back to the last couple of days, she had barely heard from her girlfriend, and now she’s not affectionate, even after she almost had a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway and her smile drops. “We have to break up,” Poppy says, her tone so monotone and dry as if she didn’t mean the words she was saying at all. 

“I don’t understand,” is all Bea can muster, evidently hurt by Poppy’s admission. Poppy winces slightly at Bea’s tone, finally breaking her robotic demeanour as she lets out a few sniffles. “So is that it? We have to break up,” Bea retorts mockingly, “is that all I get after all these years?” 

“Bea..” Poppy reaches out but Bea immediately takes a step back, tears flooding in her eyes. 

“No,” she holds her hands up, “I don’t get it, things are going good, or at least whatever twisted definition of good we’ve made up. Where the hell did this come from?” 

“Bea my dad-” 

“Of course! Hayden Min fucking Sinclair had something to do with this. Why do you still live under his shadow? You talk all this shit about breaking out of your father’s prison and wanting to achieve your own goals but he sucks you back in.” 

“That’s not fair Bea,” Poppy interjects, balling her hands up into fists in an attempt to subdue her trembling, “my dad has given me so much and he’s threatening to take it all away.” 

“Yeah, all you have to do is get rid of me. Me or the Min Sinclair name.” 

“Bea this is the life I have, okay I’m not like you, I’m not built like you.” 

“So what? I can grow up without a dad and now without a mom but it’s okay because I’m used to pain and disappointment?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, you have a plan, things you can achieve, I need the Min Sinclair name, I’m nothing without it.” 

“Wow.” Bea shakes her head, “So I just meant nothing?” Bea wildy throws her arms in the air, anger bubbling under the surface of her demeanour. “We’ve practically been together since we were kids. And you’re just gonna fucking throw that away? And for what? Fuck you Poppy.” 

Poppy takes half a step back, dumbfounded by Bea’s outburst. She scrunches her brows, evidently hurt, “you don’t get it Bea. Even though your mom wasn’t the best, she still supported you, even if you didn’t know about it. My dad he- my mom what would she think?” 

“Your mom? Poppy what kind of shit is your dad brainwashing you with? Your mom is dead! You have no idea how she would react to having a gay daughter, but I know she’s probably disappointed in you.” 

“Fuck you Bea.”Poppy runs out of the classroom, tears streaming down her face, leaving Bea on her own. 

“Shit,” Bea whispers to herself before throwing a bunch of punches at the wall, each more cathartic than the last until she can’t physically hold herself up anymore. Bea defeatedly slides into a chair, cradling her head in between her hands, letting the tears free fall, as reality begins setting in that she lost the one thing in the world that was her everything. Poppy Min Sinclair was her rock, the girl who she gave her heart to, the love of her life and just in a matter of moments it was over. Maybe it was too good to be true. The beautiful, perky popular rich girl and the girl who had almost nothing, complete polar opposites, it never should’ve worked. But time and time again when faced against the world they persevered so why was this time different? Poppy had chosen her namesake over the love of her life. She chose the life of glitz and glamour over the girl who gave her her entire heart. Bea feels her entire world crashing down, how much more heartbreak could she take? Was her life always going to be so hard? So full of hurt? Full of pain? She winces at the thought, her head hammering as she comes to the realisation that she understood her mother’s pain more than she thought. 

…. 

Bea hops off her bike, parking it in front of her house, as she pulls her phone out to look at the time. ‘It’s lunch time,’ she thinks to herself. After the day she had today, school wasn’t the best option for her right now. She makes her way to her front door but stops in her tracks when she realises her front door is slightly ajar. Her survival instincts kick in as she effortlessly pulls out her pocket knife, carefully pushing the door fully open. As she steps into the living room, her eyes dart to the closed door of her mother’s room, but when she hears a creaking sound coming towards her bedroom, she cautiously moves towards the source of the noise, the grip on her knife tightening. As she creeps up, she sees the door of her room half opened, a hooded figure standing by her bed with their back facing her. 

Bea stealthily sneaks up to the figure placing the knife a few inches from their throat before lowering her voice to a threatening tone, “who are you and what the fuck are you doing?” The figure gasps, dropping a bag that’s in their hands with a deafening thud before raising their hands in a sign of surrender. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” the voice whimpers out. 

“AJ?” Bea raises her eyebrows, retracting the knife from his throat while pulling down his hood with her other hand. “What the fuck are you doing?” Bea takes a step back while AJ scrambles grabbing the bag he just dropped moments before. When he turns to face Bea, his eyes are wide, filled with fear as he clutches the bag closely to his chest. 

“I have to go,” he says as he attempts to run out of the room, but Bea pulls him back, her face crumpled in suspicion. 

“No we’re not doing this, give me the bag now,” Bea snatches the bag out of his hands before he can protest and opens the zipper to find it filled with cash. She grits her teeth, anger settling into her features as she whips her head up to AJ, “is this my fucking money?” 

“Bea, I- I can explain-” 

“What the fuck AJ!” Bea throws the bag onto the bed, the cash spilling out as she jabs an accusing finger at AJ’s chest. “You’re stealing from me now? I haven’t seen you in god knows how long, you don’t call, text nothing. Even after everything that’s been happening in the last few weeks but you have the audacity to fucking steal from me? Money that I’ve spent years saving? Money that I’ve bussed my fucking ass off for, are you serious right now?” Bea’s voice is filled with rage as she’s practically screaming, her voice now thundering. AJ winces, guiltily averting his gaze to the ground, unable to meet Bea’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry about your mom Bea, I wanted to visit-” AJ croaks out.

“But you didn’t,” Bea interjects, her voice lowered but filled with hurt. “And now you’re taking money- I mean what is so important you had to steal from me.” 

AJ paces towards the bed, hanging his head in shame, when he speaks his voice is quiet, full of fear, “I’m in some bad shit Bea. These guys aren’t playing around.” 

“I told you not to fall into the wrong crowd, I warned you this shit would happen.” 

“Bea please, I’ll pay you back I just need it.” 

“No! What the fuck, when will you pay me back huh? This is my college money, I’m not letting you give that away to your crackhead friends.” 

“Bea please,” AJ clasps his hands together, his tone pleading, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“AJ I have too much shit on my plate right now, I can’t deal with this. You need to find something else, I can’t help you.” 

AJ’s face pales but he stands up, and makes his way towards the door, before leaving he turns to look back at Bea, “I’m sorry about everything.” 

Bea keeps her eyes trained on her bed where the money is sprawled all over the mattress, “yeah me too,” she replies quietly. Bea hears the front door close and she collapses to the ground, letting the tears flow. 

……

A few days later, Bea sits in her dark living room, curtains shut and lights completely off as she wallows in her sadness, drinking from a bottle of cheap beer, as she stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, so drowned in her thoughts she doesn’t hear the resounding knocks on her door until she hears a voice call out, “Bea! Are you there?” 

Bea crumples her brows, forcing herself to stand as she makes her way to the door, she wearily makes her way to her front door only slightly opening the door before poking her head out. “Veronica?” Veronica gives the girl a wide smile before pushing the door more open, ushering the figure behind her into the house too, “Carter? What are you guys doing here?’ 

Veronica looks around the dark room, noticing the pile of empty beer bottles on the floor, “yikes, drinking on your own on a friday night Hughes? That’s really sad.” Carter stands near the edge of the living room, as if he’s an explorer, his eyes darting all over the living room as he assesses this new environment. 

Bea on the other hand scowls at Veronica, “what the hell do you want Veronica, I’m not in the mood.” 

Veronica frowns slightly, pouting her lips together, “we heard about you and Poppy.” 

Bea rolls her eyes, “yeah well I’m trying to forget about her.” Bea picks up her beer bottle from the ground and makes a show by exaggeratingly drinking from the bottle until it's empty. She discards the empty bottle along with the other ones before turning to look at Veronica and Carter, “so if you’ll excuse me.” 

Veronica steps towards Bea, wrapping her hand around the brunette’s arm, “we’re not here for Poppy stupid, we’re here for you.” 

Bea raises an eyebrow, “for me?” 

Veronica turns to look at Carter, beckoning him forward, Carter breaks out of reverie and clears his throat, “yeah uh, we wanted to take you to a party.” 

“A party?” Bea looks between them confused, “I’m not that interested guys.”

“Wait, wait, wait Bea,” Veronica pleads, pulling Bea closer to her, “you’ve never been to a Belvoire party and the year is almost over, we thought we should take you to at least.” 

“I don’t know guys,” Bea says skeptically, “a lot of people don’t like me.” 

“Who gives a shit? You just had your heart broken and you need to let loose.” 

Bea sighs, pulling away from Veronica, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Come on, it beats drinking in the dark on your own.” 

Bea sighs, dropping her shoulders, “what about uh Poppy?” 

“Poppy?” Veronica arches a brow, “her and Chloe are staying in tonight, she said she needed to catch up on homework or something.” 

Bea purses her lips together in thought before sighing,  “fine.” Veronica cheers, “but,” Bea over enunciates, “only for a few hours and if I don’t like it I’m going home.” 

“Okay, deal,” Veronica squeals, wrapping Bea in a big hug. Carter chuckles as Veronica gestures for him to join the hug, he awkwardly wraps his arms around the two girls, before pulling away. 

“Okay, I’ll wait in the car while you girls get ready. Just uh don’t take too long.”

Veronica playfully rolls her eyes as she Bea towards her bedroom, yelling back “thanks Carter.” Giddy, she rushes to Bea’s closest, assessing her clothes until she finds a short red dress hidden in the back. “This!” 

“No, no, no,” Bea shakes her head, pulling the dress out of the ombre-haired girl’s hands. 

“Why not? It would look so hot on you,” Veronica’s eyes trail down Bea’s body, as she sharply inhales. “Bea, you’re single and sexy, stop holding yourself back okay?” 

“I’m not,” Bea pushes back defensively, “I just-” she sighs heavily, “no one at Belvoire has ever seen me dressed up, I’m just- I’m nervous I guess.” 

“Then we have to show them what they’ve been missing for the last three years,” Veronica gives Bea a devilish smile as she takes the dress from Bea’s hands, sliding the dress off the hanger before handing it over to Bea. 

“Uh you gonna stay in the room?” Bea nervously wrings her hands together. 

“Why, are you offering a show?” Veronica lifts a teasing brow, noticing Bea’s cheeks redden slightly, which prompts her to let out a small laugh, “I’m kidding, don’t worry I won’t look.” Veronica makes a show of raising her hands to cover her eyes. Bea laughs as she slips out of her clothes and into the dress, she awkwardly clears her throat, grabbing Veronica’s attention. 

“Hey, uh help a girl out with her zipper?” 

“Sure,” Veronica moves to stand behind Bea, her hands ghosting around Bea’s exposed back, her breath momentarily taken away. She sturdies herself and places one of her hands on the small of the brunette’s back while the other moves towards the zipper, zipping the girl up. Bea smooths the dress down with her hands appreciating herself in the mirror, “you look gorgeous,” Veronica whispers into the shell of her ear. 

Bea’s face completely flushes red and slightly jerks at Veronica’s admission, “uhh thanks.” 

Veronica notices the awkward shift in the atmosphere, and promptly changes the subject, “so where’s your sister?” 

Bea sits in front of her mirror, a comb in her hand as she brushes her long locks, “she’s staying at a friend’s tonight.” 

“Cool,” Veronica answers back but her tone falls flat. The girls bask in the awkward silence as Bea continues to get ready but when Veronica notices Bea struggling to do her winged eyeliner she breaks the silence. “Hey do you need help?” 

Bea smiles bashfully, “yeah.” She rubs the back of her head with her hand, “sorry Poppy used to help me with my makeup.” 

“Right,” Veronica’s face slightly falls but she quickly covers it up, ushering Bea to come and sit on the bed. “Come on, I don’t bite,” Veronica bites the bottom of her lip, “unless you want me too.” Bea laughs but obliges sitting on the edge of the bed. Veronica clambers onto her lap, her thighs settling on the sides of Bea’s legs, and in response, Bea’s eyes widen in surprise but she remains glued in her spot, too shocked to move. 

“V, what are you doing?” Bea whispers, her voice attempting to come across as reprimanding but it comes out as breathy. 

“Relax, I’m just doing your eyeliner.” Veronica plucks the wand from Bea’s hand and angles herself close to the brunette’s face, as she begins drawing on the wings on Bea’s eyelids. Bea steadies herself, as she feels the heat of Veronica’s body so close to hers and when Veronica is finished with putting the finishing touches on her eyelids, she hops off Bea’s lap, making her way towards the desk, scuffling through Bea’s makeup bag before taking up her place on Bea’s lap once again. “Now I think this colour would look good on you,” 

“You don’t think it’s too much red?” 

“Oh babe, red means power, dominance, you don’t wanna be thinking about Poppy the entire night, you wanna have all eyes on you Bea Hughes.” Veronica uncaps the lipstick, her eyes burning into Bea’s lips as she carefully applies the red colour to her lips. “Perfect.” 

Bea smacks her lips together, evenly spreading the red on her lips. “Thanks V.” 

Veronica’s eyes dart to Bea’s lips, her tongue slightly running along her bottom lips before she breaks out of her reverie flashing Bea a smirk, “don’t thank me yet, thank me when you’re having the time of your life at the party.” Veronica slides off Bea’s lap, holding her hand out, “come on let’s finish up because Carter’s been waiting for a while.” Bea smiles up at Veronica, taking her hand as she lets the ombre-haired girl pull her off the bed, as they continue getting ready. 

………

Once they arrive at the party, Carter drops the girls off at the front of the huge house before telling them he will park the car. Veronica’s gaze darts to Bea, who’s nervously toying with her hands, looking up at the intimidating house, the lights blaring and as the music echoes throughout, the bass thumping in their ears. Noticing the nerves settling into her, Veronica slips into Bea's, giving her a reassuring squeeze, “hey, it’s okay, it’s just a bunch of drunk, preppy uptight teenagers, nothing you don't usually face everyday.” 

Bea lets out a small laugh, “just in a big ass house,” she jests. 

“Yeah, just in a big ass house,” she gives Bea a light squeeze as she starts pulling Bea into the house with her. Automatically, they’re met with stares and whispers, as the students look astonished at Bea, some appraising her outfit, while others are confused about her presence. “Hey, just stay with me okay?” Veronica whispers over to Bea. Bea nods, her eyes roaming the room. “I’ll get us drinks.” The ombre-haired girl gives Bea a reassuring pat on her arm and leaves her side and Bea walks into the living room, observing the difference between the vibes of the party between the north and the south. Her thoughts then move to think about Poppy, how Poppy would love going to parties in the north but Bea couldn’t find the appeal in it. Poppy. Poppy, who broke up with her. She’s interrupted from her thoughts by a tap of her shoulder, and Bea turns around to see Veronica offering her a red solo cup, Bea takes a sip and winces. 

“What the hell is this crap?” 

“Yeah for a bunch of rich kids, their taste in beer isn’t the best,” Veronica jokes, slightly nudging Bea. 

“We have way better beer in the south side.” 

“That I can agree with.” Veronica looks over to Bea who looks lost in thought, “hey what are you thinking about?” 

Bea sighs heavily, “Poppy,” she mutters. 

Veronica nods once, “right, yeah.” 

“Poppy would’ve loved a party like this, big fancy house an-” 

“Bea,” Veronica says, her tone slightly agitated, “this,” she gestures around the room, “is a no Poppy zone. That means we don’t think about Poppy, only about fun.” 

Bea nods, “fun. I can do that.” Veronica lifts her cup in the air, “what are we cheering to?” 

Veronica gives Bea a smile, “here’s to the first steps in moving on.” The girls tap their cups together before downing their drinks. “Now if we wanna get drunk, we’re gonna need a lot more of these.” 

The party is still ongoing, and Bea sits in a circle with a few girls from the volleyball team and a few of the football team and other people she doesn’t recognise while Veronica sits beside her. 

“Bea you look so pretty,” one of her teammates says. 

“Yeah Bea your makeup is literally gorgeous,” another chimes in. 

“Who knew strip tease can clean up well,” Ford jests, but Bea slumps her shoulders a little, remembering that these people are not her friends. 

Carter enters the circle slapping Ford on the head as he goes, “shut up, Hughes is cool.” Bea gives Carter a nod of appreciation before looking down at the drink in her hands. Her thoughts move a million miles a minute, but there’s a constant one stuck in her brain, Poppy.

Veronica looks over at Bea, frowning. “Hey come with me.” She stands, excusing herself from the group and Bea follows her close behind. 

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re gonna play a private game of truth or drink.” 

Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”