#when she can barely drag herself across the sand

[waywardstation]

okay joke idea but hear me out

PMD: everything is the same or similar except Akari is a Phione. She needs to be careful when playing around with Ingo when he is Thyplosion. Also I believe she would be spitting water at everyone being mean to him.

And once again she becomes a passenger on him as a Phione.

I don’t think things would change too much for the AU if she was a Phione, but some things would definitely be different.

Compared to an eevee, she’d probably be useless anywhere else, but I could see her being pretty helpful in water-based dungeons where Ingo would struggle more, as a sort of trade-off.

I think she would spit water at those who are rude as well; it’s annoying but it’s not harmful. The Miss Fortune Sisters (in the place of Team Skull in this AU) would probably be subjected to that a lot haha. Like you said, she’s just got to be careful not to accidentally douse Ingo’s hot spots on his back — lots of steam, and/or brief difficulty with igniting, depending on how much water is sprayed.

And I do think Ingo would have to carry her around most places. No legs and flimsy flippers make for a very slow pace on land — she’d stick herself to his shoulder like a starfish lol. And maybe stay in the bag/under his hat in hot weather.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 4 of 12

Synopsis: New feelings emerge the annual obx bonfire, and maybe rafe makes sense sometimes?

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

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The beach was alive with energy. Shadows danced across the sand as the bonfire crackled, its flames licking up into the night sky. Music pulsed from a speaker someone had dragged down, a beat that felt like the heartbeat of the entire crowd. It was packed, Kooks and Pogues alike coming together under the shared, unspoken Outer Banks tradition: that bonfires were for everyone. Tonight, social status was checked at the edge of the sand, and the air buzzed with freedom.

Y/N took it all in, smiling as she watched the chaos around her. To her left, Pope was pulling a face as he choked down a swig of the lukewarm beer they’d snagged from an abandoned cooler, and on her right, Kiara was doubling over in laughter as JJ finished off the remains of a sloppy keg stand, his grin as wide as it was reckless.

“Twenty seconds! That’s a record!” Kiara declared, raising her cup as JJ landed, somewhat unsteadily, on his feet. He leaned on Pope, pretending to stagger for effect.

“Twenty-five seconds if you count style points,” JJ retorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “And that was a world-class dismount.”

“World-class dismount?” Pope scoffed, though he couldn’t hold back a grin. “That was barely even a landing.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, joining in with the rest of them. This was her crew—her people. Moments like this reminded her that these were more than just friends; they were family. They shared everything, from scraps to secrets, and it felt easy, right. Here, she didn’t have to be anything but herself.

The group continued to cheer JJ on, tossing him mock praises while he bowed with exaggerated flair. Then he shot a challenging look over at Pope. “Think you can beat that, Pope? Or is Mr. Honour Student scared to take on the keg?”

Pope rolled his eyes, but Y/N could see the glint of competitiveness sparking behind his usual calm. “Step aside, amateurs,” he said, striding toward the keg. “Prepare to witness a true display of keg-standing grace.”

Kiara snorted. “Yeah, you’ll need all the grace you can get to beat JJ’s ‘world-class dismount.’”

Y/N watched as Pope set himself up, bracing his hands on the keg while JJ and Kiara took hold of his legs. The group counted down as Pope lifted up, holding his own surprisingly well. JJ and Kiara kept the playful jeers coming, while Y/N joined in with cheers, laughing so hard her sides hurt. When Pope finally came down, he shook his head with mock disgust at the crowd’s over-the-top applause.

The group quickly settled into their usual rhythm, passing around drinks, teasing each other, and laughing so loudly they drew a few curious glances from the others around the bonfire. Kiara passed Y/N a drink, winking as if sharing a secret. Y/N took a sip, enjoying the taste of freedom mixed with the slight saltiness of the ocean breeze.

Then, as the night continued, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a glance, a small change in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a figure entering the firelight, carrying herself with an effortless confidence. Sarah Cameron, arriving with her own Kook crowd. She seemed to glide through the sand, her friends moving aside to let her through as if they’d choreographed the whole thing.

Y/N watched her for a second, noticing how, even among the crowd, Sarah looked almost… untouchable. There was something magnetic about her, even if Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She glanced around, curious if anyone else had noticed, and saw John B watching Sarah with a look that wasn’t just casual curiosity. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with her as she passed, the kind of look that felt more like a question than a glance.

The thing was, John B hadn’t looked away right away. And Sarah, too, held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before giving him a small, unreadable smile and moving on.

Y/N felt a small flutter of curiosity, but she quickly brushed it aside. It was probably nothing; John B was just noticing Sarah, like everyone else was. If he was intrigued by her, that was no surprise—everyone seemed to be.

She turned her attention back to the group, pushing aside any thoughts of Sarah Cameron and the strange little moment she’d witnessed. The Pogues were deep into some new joke, Pope recounting a mishap from a surf lesson he’d tried to give a tourist last summer, everyone laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.

It was all familiar, all part of their dynamic. But as Y/N looked around at them—JJ, leaning back with a confident grin; Kiara, always quick with a witty comeback; Pope, rolling his eyes good-naturedly—she felt a faint pang of something. A sense of being surrounded yet slightly apart. They were all laughing, all connected in a way she was part of but also… maybe not entirely. It was subtle, something she couldn’t quite name, but it was there.

–

The bonfire crackled on, casting warm, flickering shadows over everyone as laughter and stories echoed into the night. Y/N stretched her legs out on the soft sand, her eyes dancing over her friends as they chatted and laughed around her. The atmosphere was alive, a tangle of music, firelight, and easygoing conversations. She could almost forget the weight that had been following her around lately, the quiet sense that something was off.

JJ was in his usual element, animatedly telling a story about some wild, yet exaggerated, run-in with a tourist and a local cop. His hands flew through the air, mimicking the cop’s serious tone and his own escape from the situation. Everyone laughed, even Pope, who was the least likely to show much amusement. 

“Bet you didn’t get off that easy, though!” Kiara teased, nudging JJ with her foot.

“I got off just fine, thank you,” JJ replied with a wink, his grin wide as he glanced over at the crowd. “And speaking of getting off, there’s a cute tourist over there who might need a tour guide tonight.” He gave a sly smile, turning his head toward a group of vacationers by the food table.

John B. shot JJ a mock glare from the other side of the fire, his voice loud over the chatter. “What is it with you and tourists, man? At this point, I’m just concerned for their safety.”

JJ laughed, throwing up his hands in defense. “I’m a professional. Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, right,” Pope chimed in, shaking his head as he passed around another beer. “JJ ‘Tour Guide’ Maybank at it again. Should we be concerned for our reputation?”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled. “Some things never change.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N joined in, her laughter light and genuine, but underneath it, something else simmered—a slight discomfort she couldn't quite shake. She watched JJ eye the tourist again, clearly sizing her up. It was nothing new, just JJ being... well, JJ. He’d always been carefree, always found someone to flirt with, to connect with, even if it was for one night. 

But something about it hit a little harder tonight. 

Pope leaned in, his voice intentionally loud, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey, when are you gonna find someone to hook up with? You’re, like, the only one here who hasn’t.”

Y/N froze for a second, then forced a laugh. “I’m just… not in the mood for that stuff,” she said, not quite convincing herself. She could feel her friends' eyes on her, even as they all laughed it off. 

“Yeah, Y/N,” JJ added without missing a beat, his smile wide and easy. “What, too busy reading books to bother with that stuff?” The words were lighthearted, thrown out with a laugh, but they landed heavier than he realized.

The group chuckled, but Y/N felt a slight tension building in her chest. It was a joke, sure, but it was the second time tonight that someone had mentioned her "lack of experience." As if it defined her in their eyes.

Kiara, sensing the slight shift in Y/N’s mood, leaned over and threw an arm around her. “You know we’re just messing with you, right? You’re one of us—don’t need anyone to complete you or whatever.”

But the words felt hollow, even though Y/N knew Kiara meant well. One of us. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Y/N had always felt like she was one of the group—the sidekick, the buddy. But she didn't want to be just the "one of the guys" forever. She wanted to be seen differently. She wanted someone to notice her for more than her place in the group.

“Yeah, you’re our moral compass,” Pope added with a grin, raising his cup to her. “You keep us all on the straight and narrow, Y/N.”

She managed a strained smile, raising her own drink in response. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment… I think.” But the weight of their words, their easy camaraderie, left her feeling more like an outsider than ever.

But Y/N felt herself pulling further away, her smile fading just a little. The casual remark—that she was more like the friend who held everyone together, the one who didn’t need anything in return—only reinforced the space between them. She wasn’t the girl they saw in the same light as Kiara. She wasn’t the one who could be flirted with, or kissed in the heat of the moment. She was the one who watched. Who held the drinks, who laughed at the jokes.

The conversation shifted again, and Y/N, trying to mask her discomfort, found herself zoning out. She stared at the fire, the flames dancing in a rhythm that felt almost mocking in its carefree energy. 

In the midst of her thoughts, she caught John B.’s gaze across the fire. He looked over at her, offering a quick smile before turning to say something to JJ. His presence—his casual nature, his place in the group—was a sharp reminder that, no matter how much time they spent together, she’d always be just a part of the background. He fit in effortlessly. He had a life outside the group, but when he was with them, he was fully there.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice how John B. had looked at Sarah when she arrived. It was subtle, but it was there. A shared glance. And maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a casual look, but it stung all the same.

She quickly averted her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of being left behind. It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t that she wanted to be the one to catch John B.’s attention. It was the realization that, in this group, there were parts of her that no one truly saw.

And that thought settled over her like a cold wave.

JJ’s voice broke through her thoughts, his casual tone making her even more aware of the gap she felt. “Well, Y/N’s too good for that stuff anyway. She’s more about, like, keeping her nose in a book or something. Definitely not the party girl type.”

She froze, the teasing jab landing a little too close to home. She could feel all eyes on her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Their laughter, Kiara’s reassuring arm around her shoulders, the lighthearted comments, all felt like they were circling around her, but not letting her in.

She needed air.

Standing quickly, Y/N excused herself, her voice tight. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked toward the shore, the cool night air brushing against her skin, and with every step, she felt more like a stranger to the group she had spent so many years with. She reached the water’s edge and stood there for a moment, staring out at the ocean, the rhythmic waves matching the turmoil inside her.

---

The bonfire crackled in the distance, the warmth and laughter of the group growing fainter as Y/N walked along the shore. Her steps felt heavy, her thoughts swirling with the aftertaste of the evening—the teasing, the offhand comments, the feeling of not quite fitting in. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been part of their jokes before, but tonight it was different.

She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much—the jokes about her never hooking up or not being like Kiara. It was just a night, after all. But it all piled up, and now, standing by herself in the cool night air, she couldn’t escape the way she felt. Invisible.

And then she heard footsteps approaching, the familiar sound of someone walking through the sand with a confident stride.

“Where are you going, bookworm?” Rafe’s voice came from behind her, the teasing tone clear even from a distance.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. “Really? You too?” she muttered under her breath, bracing herself for the onslaught of sarcasm. She turned to face him, arms crossed. “I thought we had a truce, Rafe. What do you want?”

Rafe, as usual, didn’t take her irritation seriously. His lips twitched with a mischievous grin, like he always knew how to push her buttons. “Truce? What truce? Come on, you can’t seriously be sulking out here by yourself. The night’s still young, and you’re out here playing emo beachside poetry.”

Y/N scoffed, feeling an odd mix of annoyance and amusement. “Really? Emo beachside poetry? You’re such a pain in the ass.”

Rafe shrugged, unaffected. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep you from brooding. So, what’s the deal? You’re just gonna sit out here while the rest of the world is having fun? You’re not exactly the type to pull a disappearing act.”

She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out why his presence suddenly felt even more annoying than usual. “I’m not brooding,” she said, but her voice didn’t carry the same confidence. “I just needed a break.”

Rafe, sensing her discomfort but not exactly understanding the full extent of it, shrugged and stepped closer. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this, not when she was usually so steady and unbothered. But he couldn’t help himself—he was always itching to push people’s buttons, especially hers.

A long silence stretched between them. Rafe, for once, wasn’t sure what to say. His usual quips felt wrong in the heavy air, and he hesitated, a rare thing for him.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s the comments,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “About me not hooking up with anyone… or not being like Kiara.” She shook her head, trying to make light of it. “It’s just… it’s nothing, really.”

Rafe frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he took a step closer. “What are you talking about?” His voice was quieter now, less teasing and more concerned, though he was still doing his best to hide it.

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know. It just… it felt like they don’t see me the way I want to be seen. Like I’m just some ‘one of the guys’ kind of thing. Like I don’t matter the same way they all do.”

Rafe paused, letting the words sink in. His gaze softened for a moment, but his usual wall of sarcasm quickly came back up. “Is that it? You’re mad because you didn’t get the hookup attention?”

Y/N glared at him, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “That’s not the point, Rafe.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to process her words. He wasn’t great with emotions, especially when it came to the people closest to him, but he hated seeing her upset. And he hated not knowing how to help.

“I don’t get you, Y/N,” he said after a beat. “You’ve always been with them. Hell, they act like you’re one of them, one of the crew. And now you’re telling me you’re upset ‘cause you don’t get treated like some girl?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond right away. She could feel the frustration rising again, like a knot in her chest. She had tried to convince herself it didn’t matter. That she was fine with being one of the guys. But she wasn’t fine.

Rafe sighed, his voice softening just a little. “You know, I’ve never been big on feelings or whatever. But I don’t like seeing people hurt. And you... you don’t deserve to feel like that.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden shift. She hadn’t expected him to be this… serious. For a moment, she almost didn’t know what to say.

Rafe, still a little uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, tried to make light of it. “Look, I’ve always thought of you as one of the guys. I mean, you hang with them more than anyone, right? It’s like you’re part of the crew. But… now that I’m seeing this, it’s like, huh. Maybe there’s more to you than just being the ‘bookworm’ in the back.” His tone had a subtle softness to it, like he was trying to figure out something about her—and maybe himself, too.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat. The words she had been holding in all night slipped out before she could stop them. “I—uh, I have a crush on JJ,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I think I always have.”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. Well, I can see that. JJ’s, uh... JJ. The golden boy, right?” He paused, then added, more seriously, “But JJ’s not exactly the best at noticing what’s right in front of him. So, don’t get your hopes up.”

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She wasn’t sure why she had said it—maybe because Rafe didn’t seem to judge her like the others did, maybe because she needed to get it out. “I know. I know it’s stupid. It’s complicated.”

Rafe shifted, sitting down beside her, though his usual confidence seemed to have faded a little. “Yeah, relationships are complicated. I wouldn’t know much about them, to be honest.” He shrugged, trying to keep things light, but his tone was tinged with something more—maybe a little vulnerability that he wasn’t used to showing. “I don’t do that whole ‘feelings’ thing. And honestly, I don’t really think anyone should, if I’m being real.”

Y/N turned to look at him, surprised by the shift in his attitude. It wasn’t the usual Rafe—there was something a little more... human in his words.

“I don’t know why anyone gets into relationships, honestly,” Rafe continued, his voice more thoughtful now. “They always seem messy. I’ve seen enough of that in my family. But maybe that’s why I stay out of it. Keeps it simple.”

Y/N nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Yeah. I get that.”

Rafe broke the silence with a half-smile, his usual cocky grin returning. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers, but you’re not just some sidekick, Y/N. You deserve more than that. Anyone who can’t see that... they’re blind.”

Y/N stared out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore, her thoughts swirling. She hadn’t expected this conversation with Rafe to feel like it was unearthing something real inside her, but here they were. It was the first time in a long while she felt like someone understood, even if it was Rafe—a guy who seemed to care more about being a pain in her side than anything else.

“So, what now?” she asked, her voice quieter. "Do I just keep pretending it doesn’t matter? That I’m okay with being invisible?"

Rafe shifted beside her, his presence solid and unexpected. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves and the crackling of the bonfire far in the distance.

“Maybe don’t pretend,” he said after a beat. “But don’t expect everything to change overnight, either. You can’t force people to see you differently, even if they’re close to you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them. And if they do—well, then that’s when things get messy. But I think you deserve better than being invisible.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure what to make of his words, but she felt like she might be seeing a different side of him for the first time. Not the brash, cocky Rafe, but the one who understood what it felt like to be lost in the crowd.

"You're kind of making sense, you know?" Y/N said, half-laughing, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe gave a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I do that sometimes."

For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she could breathe a little easier. Maybe she wasn’t completely alone in feeling invisible. But the night was far from over, and Y/N knew that her place in the group—and the way she was seen—was something she’d have to face sooner or later.

"Thanks, Rafe," she said quietly, almost as an afterthought.

He gave her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t mention it, bookworm. Just don’t go getting any ideas, alright?"

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Don’t worry. You’re the last person I’d ever have ideas about."

They both stayed quiet for a while longer, watching the waves, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the sand. It wasn’t the end of her internal battle, but for a moment, it felt like maybe she had a little more clarity. Just a little more understanding. And that was enough for now.

---

Next up: morning confrontations and coffee mishaps

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87

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A/N: never underestimate the power of a uni student during midterms. she will write multiple chapters of a fic in 24 hours

[luckyroll3]

Crush

My Masterlist

Summary: Years after hearing the confession of his crush, Professor Elise Richards never expected to see her former student, Han Jisung, again—she also never imagined he’d turn into a global K-pop sensation. But when he returns, confident and breathtakingly grown, he reminds her of the promise he once made: to look her up in five years. Now a man who knows exactly what he desires, Jisung is determined to claim the woman who captivated him, and Elise finds herself unable to resist him.

Han Jisung x Reader (f); Smut; Professor/Student

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, marijuana use, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 14,169

Dr. Elise Richards sighed contently as she strolled along the moonlit beach, the sand between her toes feeling like liquid silk, cool and smooth against her bare feet, and the salty breeze playing with her curly hair. She inhaled deeply, the marijuana smoke curling from her fingers like lazy tendrils against the twilight sky as she savored the moment of solitude and reflection. Another semester finished. Another year of academic bullshit behind her.

She rolled her shoulders, feeling the tension from grading papers and getting final grades uploaded before the deadline dissolve with each step along the deserted shoreline. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, their soothing ebb and flow easing her into meditative thought. The joint dangled between her fingers, a small act of rebellion against her meticulously structured professional life. One drag. Then another.

The chill in the air became more pronounced as she continued to walk. Shivering slightly, she wrapped one arm around herself, hugging her slender frame tight as she wished she had chosen a hoodie and sweatpants for this impromptu excursion, instead of the longed-sleeve t-shirt and jean shorts doing nothing to keep the cold out. The thin fabric of the tee brushed against her nipples, hardening them against the chill. The sensation lingered in her mind, mixing with the buzz from the weed. 

A bonfire in the distance caught her attention — a warm orange pulse against the deepening navy of the evening. Music drifted, indistinct but rhythmic, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Her curiosity tugged at her, a subtle magnetic pull drawing her gaze toward the light.

As she neared closer, Elise could make out the silhouettes of people dancing with carefree movements. The closer she got to the fire, she realized it was a beach party. She wasn't planning to interrupt whatever celebration was happening. Just observe. Just breathe. Just exist in this moment.

Her body moved with practiced grace, each step deliberate yet casual. The music grew louder. The fire's glow more inviting. She kept walking.

As she approached, the silhouettes around the bonfire became clearer. T-shirts and sweatshirts with her university's logo caught the firelight — students, unmistakably. A soft, involuntary smile played across her lips. They looked so young. So alive. She took another drag from the joint as she started to walk past, invisible. 

"Dr. Richards!" So much for invisible.

She turned to find Han Jisung, one of her current students, beaming at her with his irresistible smile, so electric it lit up the space even in the darkness. The firelight danced across his youthful features, accentuating his cute chipmunk-like cheeks, sharp jawline and mischievous eyes. He was surrounded by a group of equally energetic students, all clutching cans of beer or red solo cups as they laughed and danced.

“Jisung,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my birthday. Just a little low-key celebration for getting older and the end of the semester.” Jisung's eyes sparkled — part mischief, part genuine excitement. "You should join us," he said, his invitation hanging in the salt-laden air between them. “Since it’s my 20th, I can make an exception to the guest list, especially for you.” His eyes traveled down and up her body slowly, stopping for a second to linger on her nipples protruding through her shirt before landing back on her eyes. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Twenty years old, all possibility and potential, radiating a confidence that bordered on audacity.

Elise laughed, captivated by his playful charm and the way his dark eyes shined with hope. The wind shifted and she brought the joint back to her lips, pulling slowly as she watched him. The night seemed to pause, waiting for her response.

Ah, fuck it, she thought to herself. "For a few minutes," Elise heard herself say, her feet already moving towards the group.

Jisung's grin widened, triumph and excitement dancing in his eyes. He shuffled, creating space beside him, patting the sandy ground in clear invitation.

Her internal monologue was a mixture of caution and genuine curiosity. She knew the risks. A professor, fraternizing with students. Off-campus or not, it was a delicate line. But something about Jisung — his unfiltered enthusiasm, his raw charm — made her want to lean into the moment. Plus, it was the end of the semester; he was technically no longer her student.

As she settled near the fire, Jisung leaned close. His proximity was warm. Intentional. Charged.

"You're not gonna report us for drinking, are you?" he teased, a beer bottle already extended towards her.

Elise's laugh was low. Smoky. "What happens off-campus," she drawled, taking the cold bottle, "stays off-campus. Especially if someone keeps my little herbal indulgence a secret." She waggled the half-smoked joint meaningfully, then offered it to him in exchange.

Jisung's eyes gleamed. A silent, playful agreement. He took the joint delicately between his fingers and brought it to his lips. 

“Happy birthday, by the way,” she said as she took a swig of the beer. “Twenty will definitely be one of the best years of your life. I had a lot of fun in year 20.”

“Thanks. I hope so,” he replied as they both settled into silence and watched the others. 

The flames danced hypnotically, casting a warm glow across the faces gathered around the bonfire. Elise sank into the sand, feeling the grains shift beneath her as she got comfortable. The heat from the fire warmed her skin, a pleasant contrast to the cool ocean breeze. 

Despite the age gap and her role as his professor, Elise felt oddly at ease in Jisung’s presence. There was something disarmingly charming about his boyish grin and tousled hair. Over the past few months, she came to know him pretty well, given that he was a frequent visitor to her weekly office hours. It started out with him needing advice on how to succeed in her class since he wasn’t really a “science person” as he described it. Then it became him checking in with her weekly, simply because he enjoyed talking with her. His constant presence every Thursday afternoon—sometimes for 15 minutes, sometimes for the full hour—became something she had started to look forward to each week. He was adorable, funny, sweet, and she found it endearing that he wanted to talk to her about music, books, life.

"Want another hit?" Jisung asked, offering her the joint they'd been sharing.

Elise accepted it gratefully, taking a long drag. The smoke filled her lungs, heightening her senses. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Jisung's friends tossed a football around, their laughter carried on the salty air.

"So what’s your final verdict on your semester abroad?" she asked, turning to face Jisung. The firelight danced in his dark eyes. 

"It's been amazing," Jisung replied enthusiastically. "I'm so grateful I got accepted into the music program here. My skills have grown so much these past few months."

Elise nodded, recalling his talent from the few times she'd heard him perform at campus events. He had invited her to every performance he had, and when she was available, she went. "You're very gifted," she murmured. 

He launched into animated descriptions of the lifelong friends he'd made, pointing out the ones who were present and the adventures they’d had this semester. Elise found herself captivated by his infectious energy and genuine passion. 

As they continued to chat and pass the joint back and forth, Elise felt a warm contentment settle over her. The alcohol and weed lowered her inhibitions, allowing her to relax fully into the moment. She found Jisung’s gaze lingering on her lips as they spoke, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Her own eyes darted every once in a while to his very pink pout.

Shaking off the inappropriate thought, Elise took another swig of beer. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," she said. "College is about more than just academics. It's about growth and new experiences."

Jisung's eyes locked onto hers, an intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there before. "Speaking of new experiences," he began, his voice low. "I never expected to be sharing a joint and drinks with my professor on the beach at midnight."

"Careful," she warned, her tone playful. "This is our secret. This is between us and your 18 closest friends here." She laughed as Jisung's grin widened.

"Copy," he confirmed amused.

The distant sound of laughter and splashing reached Elise's ears as Jisung's friends disappeared into the dark water, leaving them alone on the beach. A warm breeze caressed her skin, carrying the scent of salt and smoke. She took another long drag from the joint, savoring the pleasant buzz that had settled over her, before passing it back to Jisung.

Beside her, Jisung shifted closer. His thigh brushed against hers, sending a tiny jolt through her body. Elise glanced at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 

"Dr. Richards," he said softly, leaning in. His breath was warm against her ear. "I need to tell you something."

Elise quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? What's on your mind, Jisung?"

He gazed at her intently, a mixture of nerves and determination in his expression. "You're the most captivating, beautiful woman I've ever met. I... I had to tell you before I leave. The semester's over and I'll be going back to Korea in a couple days."

Elise's eyes widened slightly in surprise. She hadn't expected such a bold confession from her usually reserved student. A warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the joint or beer.

"I know I'm probably just drunk," he continued, "but I needed to get it off my chest. You're incredible, Dr. Richards. Smart and funny and so damn sexy."

His eyes dropped back to her lips for a moment before meeting her gaze again. The raw desire she saw there made her pause. 

Elise chuckled softly, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. "Oh wow. You’re feeling bold tonight, huh?” He smiled shyly, but didn’t look away. I'm flattered, Jisung, truly. But this is probably just a little youthful infatuation with an older woman."

"I don’t think so," he insisted. "I know what I feel. Plus, you’re only six years older than me. Not technically an ‘older woman’."

Elise's heart raced as she stared into Jisung's earnest face. Part of her wanted to give in to the heat building between them. To throw caution to the wind and see where this unexpected connection might lead. 

But the responsible part of her mind whispered caution. He was her student. Young and likely with a crush. It wouldn't be right to take advantage, no matter how tempting. No matter that he was technically an adult and also technically no longer her student. No matter that she probably wouldn’t see him again given that he was moving back to his home on the other side of the globe. 

This wasn’t the first time a student had hit on her. It was usually the self-assured student athletes, who often assumed because of her casual dress and youthful appearance that she was a fellow student. Yet, once they learned she was a professor, their overconfidence led them to flirt and/or ask her out. Each time, she immediately shut them down, leaving no room for doubt about her lack of interest. But this attempt by Jisung was certainly the cutest. 

"I appreciate the compliment, Jisung. But you're young. There's a whole world of experiences waiting for you. Don't waste your time pining after a professor."

Jisung's face fell slightly, but determination still burned in his eyes. His hand found hers in the sand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "I'm not wasting anything," he insisted. "What I feel for you is real."

Elise felt a flutter in her stomach as Jisung's unwavering gaze held hers and her chest tightened at the sincerity in his voice. The crackling fire cast a warm glow on his youthful features, accentuating the determination etched across his face. She couldn't deny that there was a pull she felt towards him, though it wasn’t strong, but she knew better than to indulge in such dangerous territory.

“You’re sweet, Jisung,” she murmured, her voice low and tinged with affection. With a soft sigh, Elise leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm and smooth against her lips, and she caught the faint scent of sea salt mixed with his citrusy musk cologne. As she pulled back, she noticed his eyes had widened in surprise, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. "Live your life, Jisung. Find love with someone your own age. Then get your heart broken and do it all over again. Five more times! Experience all that the world has to offer. Trust me, in a few years you'll barely remember my name."

"I won't forget you, Dr. Richards. No matter where I go or who I meet."

Elise chuckled and squeezed his hand lightly. “Listen, if you still feel this way in say, five years, and you happen to find yourself back here… look me up. Who knows what might happen then?” 

Jisung's face lit up, hope blooming in his expression. "Really? You mean that?"

"I do," Elise nodded, surprising herself with how much she actually did mean it. "Five years. If you still remember me, if you still feel this way... we'll see where things stand."

A broad grin spread across Jisung's face. "I'll remember. I promise. Five years from now, I'll be right back here, Dr. Richards."

“Call me Elise.”

“Okay… Elise,” he said, sounding out the name. She squeezed his hand again before gently extracting hers from his. 

As Elise gazed at Jisung's earnest expression, the thrill of possibility, however distant, sent a shiver of excitement through her body. She liked who he was as a person, even as a twenty-year old. She couldn’t wait to see the man he would be in 5 years. 

Elise took one last deep drag from the joint, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling slowly then putting it out in the sand. The sweet, pungent aroma mingled with the salty sea air and wafted over the crackling bonfire. She could feel the buzz from the weed and several beers coursing through her body, loosening her inhibitions. 

"Fuck, I needed this," Elise murmured to herself, leaning back on her elbows in the cool sand. Her eyes drifted over to Jisung, who was laughing loudly at something his friend said. 

As the night wore on, Elise found herself caught up in the carefree revelry of the students. Their youthful energy was infectious, reminding her of her own college days. But as the bonfire started to die down and the cool night air settled in, Elise knew it was time to call it a night. She stood up, brushing sand from her shorts.

"Alright kiddos, this old lady needs her beauty sleep," she announced with a grin. "Thanks for letting me crash your party."

A chorus of "goodnight professor" and "thanks for hanging out" echoed from the group. But it was Jisung's gaze that caught and held her attention as she said her goodbyes. His eyes were filled with a potent mixture of admiration, longing, and something deeper that made her breath catch. 

"Let me walk you," he offered, jumping up to join her. 

Elise hesitated for a moment, knowing she should refuse. But the alcohol and weed clouded her judgment.

"Sure, why not," she agreed with a shrug.

They walked in companionable silence down the moonlit beach, the sound of waves lapping at the shore a soothing backdrop. Elise was hyper-aware of Jisung's presence beside her, the occasional brush of his arm against hers.

"I meant what I said earlier," Jisung said softly as they neared the sidewalk serving as the transitional boundary between the sand and the main street. "You really are the most exquisite woman I've ever met."

Elise's heart rate picked up at his words. She turned to face him, ready to gently rebuff him again. But before she could speak, Jisung leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.

For a moment, Elise froze in shock. But then her body betrayed her, melting into the kiss as her eyes fluttered closed. Jisung's lips were soft and warm against hers, tasting faintly of beer and marijuana. It was sweet and chaste, yet filled with unspoken longing that made her toes curl in the sand.

All too soon, Jisung pulled back. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe his own boldness.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I shouldn't have done that. It's just... I don't think I'll ever forget you, Dr. Rich…, uh, Elise."

Elise's head was spinning, and not just from the alcohol. She knew she should be angry, should reprimand him for crossing that line. But a small, rebellious part of her thrilled at his touch, wanting more.

"It's okay," she heard herself say. "No harm done. Goodnight, Jisung. Safe travels back home."

With a final lingering look, she turned and walked unsteadily across the street, towards the block where her house was located. She brought her fingers to her lips, which tingled from the kiss, and her mind raced with random thoughts. 

****

Elise groaned as she hefted another stack of papers into the recycling bin. The end of semester always meant a mountain of grading followed by a mountain of cleanup. She blew a stray curl out of her eyes and reached to shut down her computer, eager to get off campus and hit the beach for some much needed R&R.

The quiet of the empty lecture hall was interrupted by a voice calling her name, and she froze, surprisingly rattled by the intrusion. 

"Dr. Richards?" 

The vaguely familiar voice made her pause, hand hovering over the power button. She looked up, squinting at the figure silhouetted in her classroom doorway. Something about that voice...

The young man stepped into the room, a playful smirk on his lips. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."

It took a moment for Elise to place him. Her eyes widened as recognition dawned. Holy shit. It couldn't be...

"Han Jisung?" she breathed, hardly believing her eyes. 

Memories came flooding back. Oh, how could she ever forget the charming, passionate exchange student from years ago. The bright-eyed music major taking her class as an elective who always sat in the front row, hanging on her every word, who came to every office hour just to hang out with her. The sweet, awkward boy she'd run into at that beach bonfire years ago. But the person standing before her now was... different. Gone was the boy who had been her eager student. In his place, a polished, mature man stood, oozing an air of confidence and sexuality that wasn't there before.

Her gaze raked over him, taking in the changes. The baby-faced kid in oversized hoodies and baggy jeans was nowhere to be seen. This Jisung carried himself with an easy confidence, designer clothes hugging a lean, toned frame. His jawline had sharpened, his dark hair medium length in soft waves, styled to perfection. A confident swagger in his step as he crossed the room to stand before her. But those cute cheeks and pretty eyes — warm, mischievous, captivating — were unmistakable.

"The one and only," he said with a wink.

Elise's mouth went dry as she struggled to reconcile the Jisung in her memories with the absolutely gorgeous man before her. Jesus, puberty had been kind to him. More than kind. Downright fucking miraculous.

She cleared her throat. "I... Wow. You've certainly grown up."

Jisung's smirk widened as he sauntered closer, stopping just a few feet away. Close enough for Elise to catch a whiff of expensive cologne. "I hope that's a good thing Elise," he said, voice low and sultry. “Can I get a hug?” He opened his arms wide and enveloped her tightly before she had a chance to answer. His embrace was firm and reassuring, and she hugged him back, feeling the taut muscles in his body.

Elise felt heat creep up her neck. Get it together, woman. He used to be your student for fuck's sake. She released him and stepped back.

"Jisung, it's been...," she realized she had no idea how long it had been since they'd last seen each other, all the semesters starting to run together in her head. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He grinned, that familiar boyish charm still shining through his newfound maturity. "Six years, to be exact, Professor." 

Hearing him call her "Professor" sent a shiver down her spine, and she suddenly felt the weight of the years between them. "I… I can't believe it's been that long," she stammered, mentally cursing herself for stumbling over her words. "You look good," she managed, aiming for casual. "Life must be treating you well. What brings you back?"

"Can't complain," Jisung replied with a modest shrug that did interesting things to the muscles in his shoulders. “My group is in town for a concert, and I thought I’d drop by, see how my absolute favorite teacher was doing." 

His voice had dropped an octave, and Elise felt her knees weaken at the newfound depth in his voice and the way he said "favorite". This was dangerous territory. But god help her, she couldn't look away from those smoldering eyes.

“Well, as you can see, I’m still here… teaching and doing research,” she said, waving her hand around the barren classroom. “But your band, huh?”

"Yeah," Jisung replied with a small smile. "I’m part of a k-pop group called Stray Kids. Have you heard of us?” Elise shakes her head. “We've been doing pretty well actually."

"That's amazing," Elise said sincerely. “And well enough to be on tour.”

“Yup. I’d actually love for you to come see us tonight, if you’re available. I can leave tickets for you and your partner at will call.”

“I’d love to see you and your group. Kind of reminds me of all your performances I saw when you were here.”

“Yeah, I always appreciated how you supported me back then. You always pushed me to be better, to chase my dreams no matter what. And look at me now.” He gestured to himself. “So, I’ll definitely see you tonight then?”

“Absolutely.”

****

Elise arrived at the packed stadium with her best friend Nicole in tow, excited to see Jisung perform live. They navigated through the bustling crowd outside the concert venue, following the steady stream of fans funneling through the entrance. Elise was still in her head trying to reconcile the suave K-pop star she had seen earlier today with the eager student who had sat in her class years ago.

As they made their way inside, Elise marveled at the sheer scale of the event — the arena was packed to the rafters with screaming fans waving light sticks and homemade signs. Ushers directed them to the VIP box seats Jisung had secured for her, and Elise's eyes widened as they stepped into the plush private area overlooking the stage.

A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket next to a stunning floral arrangement with a card that simply read "Elise, enjoy the show - HJ." Elise's pulse quickened reading the note in Jisung's graceful script.

"Girl, that boy must have some serious pull to get us these spots," Nicole said as they settled into the plush seats. From here, they had an unobstructed view of the massive stage and the hordes of adoring fans already filling up the floor below.

Nicole took a sip of champagne and turned to Elise with an excited smile. "Okay, spill! What's the deal with you and this Han guy? I did a deep dive on him and his group earlier and whew, they are a big, big deal! Stray Kids are huge in the K-pop world. He's like an ace or something."

Elise raised her eyebrows in surprise. "An ace?"

"Yeah! He’s apparently crazy talented — he writes a ton of their songs, produces, and slays it on stage. He’s technically classified as one the main rappers, but he’s renowned for his amazing vocals and dance ability too. They call him the ‘Ace of the 4th Gen’ because he excels at everything. Fans are obsessed with him!" Nicole gushed.

Elise absorbed this new information with intrigue. She recalled Jisung's immense potential all those years ago, remembering the shy yet passionate performer he had been in college. It sounded like a lot had changed since then.

"I had no idea they were so popular. He just said they were doing ‘pretty well’.”

“Hmm. He certainly undersold. Stray Kids are big time; the real deal!" Nicole exclaimed. "They've won all kinds of awards, their songs top the charts, and they sell out arenas and stadiums everywhere they go. There are apparently close to 50,000 people here tonight.”

“Jisung was just a nice student in my class back then," Elise mused.

Nicole leaned in, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Soooo... did you guys ever, you know... get close, during his exchange program?"

Elise laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. He was just a bright kid with big dreams who loved to talk and laugh. I’m pretty sure I told you about him. The one who came to every office hour?”

“Oh, the lovesick puppy?” Nicole made a cute face. “With the crush?”

“Yeah. He was just an adorable kid that I enjoyed having as a student.”

The lights dimmed and screams erupted from the audience. Elise leaned forward in anticipation.

Suddenly the deafening screams reached a fever pitch as the band members emerged from beneath the stage. Elise was shocked when Jisung bound into view. This was not the Han Jisung she remembered. In place of the shy, eager student always ready with a laugh stood a young man oozing charisma, confidence, and raw talent.

He moved with precision and power alongside the other members of Stray Kids during a high-energy hip hop number that had the crowd going wild. Elise couldn't take her eyes off of him. Everything about his stage presence exuded star quality and commanded attention.

Jisung had transformed into the epitome of a K-pop idol – his lean, muscular frame showcased in a sleeveless shirt and tight jeans. He stalked the stage with feline grace, alternately snarling into the mic with intensity and then breaking into a megawatt grin that made the audience scream. His body rolled and popped flawlessly in time with the pounding beat.

He unleashed smooth vocals and effortlessly nailed every complex dance move without compromising his breath. Elise was mesmerized, unable to tear her eyes away. During a rap break, Jisung spat fire, his intensity and flow electrifying. Elise was impressed by the verbal dexterity he displayed. His delivery was rapid-fire and nuanced, voice shifting from husky and raw to a crystalline falsetto. The wordplay was clever and complex, blending Korean and English phrases seamlessly. The fans went wild as he hit every beat with precision, seemingly without needing to breathe. When he segued back into singing the chorus, his rich vocals soared through riffs and runs that showcased his immense range.

Elise was captivated by Jisung's magnetic stage presence. Each smooth choreographed movement and confident strut sent a thrill through her core. She found herself leaning forward, enraptured by the way his body moved in time with the pulsing music.

His tight jeans hugged the curves of his hips and thighs enticingly. When he turned to prowl the length of the stage, Elise's eyes were drawn to his firm backside. She felt her cheeks flush, pulse quickening at the sight.

But he also had adorably cute moments on stage too, where he joked around with his members or the fans. Like when he was so busy reading the poster board signs held high by the audience, he hadn't realized he'd been left behind by the other members who were getting into position for their next choreographed section. He had to sprint to the back of the stage to meet them, getting into his spot just a beat prior to the start of the dance. It made Elise laugh, reminding her of how silly he was back then. 

As the set went on, she noticed subtle glances from Jisung directed her way, brief but loaded eye contact that spoke volumes. It was clear he was performing for her, wanting to impress her and prove himself. There was an unmistakable intimacy in those fleeting moments of connection amidst the chaos of the stage. Elise drank in the sight of him.

Elise shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling flushed. She fanned herself discreetly, trying to calm the heat rising within her. What was happening? This was her former student up there, though he seemed like an entirely different person.

Nicole leaned over and whispered in Elise’s ear, “This is the ‘adorable kid’?!?!?! That man oozes sex appeal.”

Elise felt her cheeks flush again and she nodded in agreement. Seeing Jisung command the stage had awakened something inside her.

"I mean, look at his body," Nicole continued. "He is smoking hot. And the way he's eyeing you while he dances? Girl, that boy is into you."

Elise shook her head, trying to clear it. "It's just part of the performance," she murmured. But deep down, she knew Nicole was right. Jisung's gaze kept finding her in the crowd, his eyes dark with unspoken desire.

The rest of the concert passed in a blur. All Elise could focus on was Jisung. His smooth moves, the way his body glistened with sweat under the stage lights, the sultry looks he threw her way. By the end, Elise was practically squirming in her seat, overwhelmed with want, desire pooling hot and urgent between her legs.

After an energetic encore, the show ended and the venue emptied out. As Elise and Nicole exited the box, a staff member stopped Elise to inform her that Jisung had invited them backstage to meet the rest of the band. Elise and Nicole made their way to the blocked off area, guided by security. When they entered the private room, Elise was momentarily taken aback. Jisung stood shirtless, a towel around his neck as he gulped water to rehydrate. Rivulets of sweat still glistened on his chiseled chest and defined abs, moving down to a snatched, yet delicate waist. Elise’s eyes landed on the tattoos on his chest and down the left side of his body. Those were definitely new. 

Jisung looked up, his face lighting up when he saw Elise. He quickly pulled on a hoodie, before moving forward to pull her into an enthusiastic hug. 

“You came!” he said. Elise inhaled his scent, a mix of his cologne and the musk of performance.

“Of course I did,” Elise replied as they separated. “I told you I would. That was an incredible show. I’m so impressed. I mean, you were always talented, but that was on another level.”

Jisung grinned, clearly reveling in her praise. 

“This is my friend Nicole,” Elise continued. 

Turning to Nicole, he gave a charming smile and introduced himself. "I'm Jisung, an old friend of Elise's. I can say that right?” He looked to Elise for confirmation.

She just chuckled. “Sure. ‘Old friend’ works.”

“Oh my gosh, you were incredible out there! I can’t believe Elise knows a huge K-pop star!” Nicole replied as she shook his hand. 

Jisung laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nah. I’m still just me, the same goofy, awkward kid who took Elise’s class years ago.” 

His smile faded slightly as his gaze lingered on Elise, raw desire flickering in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he turned back to Nicole.

"So what did you think of the show?"

As Nicole gushed enthusiastically, Jisung's attention kept straying to Elise, who was watching him with casual interest. When Nicole had finished her review, Jisung turned back to Elise. 

“Was your partner unable to make it?” his eyebrows lifted. “I can get you some swag to take back for him.”

“Oh, I don’t currently have a partner.” Elise watched as Jisung tried to hide his excitement. 

“I’ll take the swag!” Nicole interrupted. 

“Um, yeah sure. I’ll make sure the two of you have stuff to take home.”

Just then, the rest of Stray Kids entered the dressing room, cheering and chatting loudly as they congratulated each other on a successful performance.

Jisung introduced Elise and Nicole to the members enthusiastically. Each member greeted them with a smile and a handshake before settling in different areas of the room. Elise and Nicole spent the next hour chatting and laughing with Stray Kids, feeling completely at ease with the down-to-earth group. As they talked and exchanged pleasantries, Elise couldn’t help but keep glancing over at Jisung, who was doing the same to her. 

At one point, Jisung came over and sat next to Elise on the couch, his thigh lightly pressing against hers. Leaning in, he said in a low voice meant only for her, "I'm really glad you came tonight. It means a lot to me."

Elise was highly aware of his proximity. Trying to play it cool, she replied, "Of course. I wouldn't have missed it."

She gently nudged him with her shoulder. "So Mr. Big Shot K-pop Star… what's it like being such a huge deal now? I’m told you’re the quote, unquote ‘ace’?" She used her fingers to make air quotes. 

Jisung laughed, his eyes crinkling. "I think everyone in our group is technically an ace. I'm not sure why they always single me out.”

“It's because you're amazing. But you're enjoying it, right? Getting to do what you love? Being a huge superstar?”

“I am. It certainly has its perks, but honestly, I'm still the same guy trying to make good music with my friends and connect with people. Fame is fleeting. The music and memories last."

He gazed at her intently and Elise felt her heartbeat quicken. There was a maturity and confidence in him now that hadn't been there before. And yet, that familiar, magnetic charm that she always found so adorable was still there.

“So single, huh?” Jisung continued. “I find that hard to believe.” He looked her directly in her eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Very single. Chronically single,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a few years and given my pool of options here, I haven’t really prioritized dating.”

“Interesting. Not sure what’s wrong with the guys here if they can’t see you’re a fucking catch.”

Elise smiled. “You’re still so sweet Jisung.” The comment made him start to blush. 

The door opened and several staff entered, speaking Korean and signaling for the group to head out. 

“Ah, we have to do interviews now,” Jisung said, translating the staff’s words as he stood up. He looked at Elise, seemingly hesitating before continuing. “Would you, uhm, be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow night? It would give us time to catch up properly.” 

Elise smiled at Jisung’s invitation. She had always enjoyed spending time with him, and the thought of catching up over dinner sounded perfect.

"Sure, I would love that," she replied. 

Jisung grinned back, relieved at her response. "Great, I'll make a reservation for us somewhere and send you the address. What kind of food do you like?"

"I'm not picky. You can choose," Elise said.

Jisung's eyes lit up. He quickly pulled out his phone to add Elise's number to his contacts. As they walked out of the dressing room together, Jisung turned to Elise and said, "I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night."

“Me too.”

The group members all waved goodbye as they followed the staff down the hallway.

****

The following evening, Elise arrived at the restaurant Jisung had chosen, an intimate Italian bistro tucked away on a side street. She was shown to a private table towards the back, with flickering candles providing a romantic glow. Jisung stood up to greet her, looking effortlessly stylish in a fitted black button-down shirt and dark brown jeans. 

"You look beautiful," he said, taking in her sleeveless dress, his eyes stopping at where the flared short skirt met her thighs, before kissing her cheek in greeting. Elise blushed at the compliment and the feeling of his lips grazing her skin. 

Over dinner, the conversation flowed easily as they caught up on the past few years. Jisung spoke of his meteoric rise to fame, the pleasures and pressures of life in the spotlight. He even shared about the time his anxiety got so bad that he had to take a few months off to get his mind right. Elise shared stories from campus and her research trips abroad. Throughout it all, the chemistry between them was palpable. Lingering looks, playful banter, knees brushing under the table.

At one point, Jisung reached across to tuck a stray curl behind Elise's ear, his fingers trailing down her neck lightly. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it back sooner like I promised," he said, voice tinged with regret. "My schedule has been nonstop the past few years." 

Elise looked at him, puzzled. "Make it back?” she repeated, confused.

Jisung's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you don't remember? The night of the bonfire, after I drunkenly confessed my crush, you told me to come back in five years to confirm if I still felt the same way after I’d ‘lived life’.” He chuckled. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your words since.”

Suddenly it came flooding back to Elise — the conversation they'd had on the beach as they’d shared a joint and beer a few days before he returned to Korea. The two of them sat together watching the flames dance into the night sky. She remembered the shy way Jisung had admitted his feelings for her, and how she had gently let him down, encouraging him to experience life and love to the fullest in his early twenties and to check for her afterwards. It had slipped her mind entirely over the years.

Elise smiled softly at the memory. "I can't believe you remembered that conversation," she said, touched that her words had resonated so deeply with him after all this time. 

Jisung grinned, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "I could never forget it. What you said stayed with me over the years. And well... Here I am, keeping my promise."

"I honestly didn't think you were serious at the time. We were both pretty tipsy and high that night." She took a sip of her wine. "So, did you manage to fall in love and live life to the fullest like I told you to?" she asked gently.

Jisung smiled ruefully. "I dated around, had a few relationships…” He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and chewed slowly. “To be honest,” he started again, looking down slightly as a slight blush rose on his cheeks, “I was so embarrassed after drunkenly confessing to you that night," he admitted. "I thought for sure you would laugh at me or tell me to get lost. But you didn't — you were so kind and understanding instead." He met her gaze again, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I meant what I said back then. You were unlike any woman I'd ever met — so smart, confident, beautiful. I've met a lot of other women over the years, but no one has ever compared to you, Elise. None."

Elise felt her own cheeks grow warm under the intensity of his words. She glanced away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She didn’t know how to respond to such an intense confession.

"Oh come the fuck on. I find that hard to believe," she finally said lightly, forcing a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension. "You're a huge celebrity now — I'm sure you have women, and probably men, throwing themselves at you all the time."

Jisung chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe so, but none of them hold a candle to you." He reached out and took her hand, his thumb gently caressing her skin. "I knew even back then that what I felt for you was real. But now that I'm here with you again, I realize nothing has changed. My feelings are still the same, if not stronger. I’m still getting those same flutters in my chest like I did when I was your student. Getting to see you again after all these years... it feels like fate."

Elise felt her breath catch in her throat at his words, her pulse quickening as his thumb gently caressed her hand. She knew she should pull away, but something kept her frozen, mesmerized by the deep emotion in his eyes.

"Jisung..." she started, still unsure of what to say. She fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass, avoiding his intense gaze. "This is all so unexpected. I'm flattered, truly.” She brought the glass to her lips and chugged half of it. Elise bit her lip as she savored and swallowed the wine, internally conflicted. 

She couldn't deny there was a spark between them, one that hadn’t been there all those years ago, at least not from her perspective. But the exhilarating tension had been building all evening. And even though he wasn’t her student anymore and he was no longer tiptoeing the line between teen and young adult, she felt a bit uneasy, conflicted about the potential ethical implications present. On one hand, she was flattered by his affection and drawn to his charming persistence. But on the other hand, she worried about crossing professional boundaries, even if they were flimsy. “So, what’s the next city on the tour?” she asked, clumsily changing the subject. 

Jisung chuckled softly and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before sitting back in his chair and resuming eating. “Atlanta, followed by New York and Chicago,” he said in between bites. 

Elise nodded as she picked at the linguini on her plate. “I love New York. You guys will have a great time there.”

“I can get you tickets for that show too… if you want to go. It would be great to explore the city with you. Think about it.”

“That’s generous. But the hotels are always so expensive.”

“You can stay in my room.” Elise raised an eyebrow at him. He held his hands up in defense. “I meant that you could have my room and I can easily share with one of my members. We do it all the time.”

“Uh huh,” Elise said with a chuckle, still feeling conflicted as she gazed across the table at Jisung. “I’ll think about it.”

As they finished up dinner, chatting casually in between bites, her mind raced. She snuck glances at him when he wasn't looking, taking in his matured features and confident aura. He certainly wasn't the shy boy who had stumbled into her class years ago.

They were interrupted frequently by texts flooding Jisung's phone. His bandmates were apparently having a party in their hotel room since it was their last night in town. He extended an invitation to Elise, his eyes filled with hopeful anticipation.

Elise hesitated. She knew she should make an excuse and call it a night, but the way he was looking at her made it hard to resist. The wine was making her feel warm and reckless. Before she could overthink it, she heard herself say "Sure, why not?"

Jisung's face lit up. As they left the restaurant, the charged atmosphere between Jisung and Elise intensified, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. She could feel Jisung's eyes on her as they walked to the Uber, his gaze trailing over her body appreciatively. She knew she was playing with fire by agreeing to go to the party, but the wine had lowered her inhibitions just enough to make her throw caution to the wind. Elise's mind raced as she thought about where the night may lead, her heart pounding with a mix of nervous excitement and apprehension.

She couldn't deny the chemistry between them, the palpable tension that had been building all evening. When Jisung took her hand to help her into the car, she felt a jolt of electricity from his touch. When their thighs brushed together in the backseat, the subtle contact sent a warmth sensation spiraling outwards from her core. He intertwined their fingers, pressing his warm palm against hers. 

Elise snuck a glance at Jisung as the car moved down the road. He was gazing out the window with a small smile playing on his lips. She studied his sharp profile appreciatively in the passing streetlights. He had grown into such a handsome young man. She also noticed how he had filled out in the years since she had seen him last. He was still thin, but now with toned arms, prominent pecs, and muscular thighs on full display in his ripped jeans and tailored shirt. 

The memory of their first encounter, when he was just a student in her class, seemed almost surreal compared to the celebrity sitting beside her now. She felt herself flush as her mind wandered, imagining what he would look like and feel like without those clothes...

Jisung caught her staring and smiled knowingly. "See something you like?" he teased.

Elise laughed and lightly slapped his arm with her free hand. "Don't get cocky. I'm just... impressed with how much you've grown up."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Maybe you'll be even more impressed later..." Elise shook her head in disbelief at his boldness. As the Uber pulled up to the hotel, Elise took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

They exchanged glances as they rode up the elevator together. The party was already in full swing, as evidenced from the thumping bass reaching them as the elevator neared the penthouse floor.

She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, suddenly wondering if she was too old to be crashing a party with Jisung and his bandmates. The oldest one, Chan, was only 2 to 3 years younger than her; she had several close friends who were his age. But most of the members were around Jisung’s age or younger.

Sensing her hesitation, Jisung gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, they're going to love you," he said, flashing her a charming grin.

The doors slid open, and they were immersed in pulsing music and the chatter of voices. Jisung led her through the crowded room, one hand placed lightly on the small of her back as he guided her in.

****

The party was in full swing, music thumping and laughter filling the air as Jisung guided Elise through the sea of ​​people. His hand on the small of her back was both possessive and gentle, making her tingle with each brush of his skin against hers. 

Elise found herself pulled into conversations with various members of Stray Kids, but her attention always drifted back to Jisung. His dark eyes would catch hers across the room, holding her gaze for a moment too long before he'd flash her a devilish grin and return his attention to his own conversation. The tension between them was an electric current sizzling just below the surface, waiting for a spark to ignite it.

At one point, he pulled her over to the middle of the room to dance. As they moved together, their bodies pressed against each other, Jisung's hands roamed her body, seemingly unable to keep away. One moment they'd be casually around her waist, the next, sliding down to her hips, molding her against him. He whispered in her ear, his breath hot, “Having fun, Dr. Richards?” His voice was low and husky. 

“I am,” she whispered back.

“Good.” He pulled her flush against his chest as they continued to dance, probably much too slow for the song that was playing. 

They were interrupted by Felix calling Jisung over for shots. Afterwards, Hyunjin brought them all mixed drinks, and they joined the lively conversation amongst the Stray Kids’ members. 

Elise's glass, now empty, seemed to be the only quiet thing amidst the pulsating thrum of the party. Music, conversation, and laughter swirled around her as Jisung excused himself to fetch her another drink, his fingers trailing off her waist with a promise of return. Left standing with Chan, Changbin, and Minho, she felt the weight of their scrutiny, a curious blend of skepticism and awe.

"Seriously, Dr. Richards," Chan said with a chuckle that didn't quite mask his disbelief, "we thought Jisung was just spinning tales. He always described you like some mythical creature."

“Please call me Elise,” she said with a low laugh. 

"We didn't think you were real, Elise. Guess we were half-expecting you to have a tail and seashells," Changbin added, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Minho nodded, his expression mirroring his bandmates' amusement. "No one could measure up to his Elise. It was like every other girl was just... pedestrian."

"Pedestrian?" She echoed out loud, her lips curving into an amused smile. His Elise, huh? Elise thought. Interesting. She leaned back against the cool wall, her eyes playfully searching the room until they landed on Jisung in the kitchen waiting for Hyunjin to finish pouring the next round of drinks. Even from this distance, she could feel the magnetism of his gaze, intense and unblinking, tethering her to him across the sea of bodies. "Sounds like I've been the topic of conversation," she replied, her voice light but edged with intrigue.

"More like the gold standard," Chan corrected with a smirk. "Six years of 'Elise this' and 'Elise that'. You'd think he was in love or something."

"Or obsessed," Changbin quipped, earning an elbow to the gut from Minho.

"Hey, it's all in good fun," Minho reassured, though his eyes glinted with the same playful mischief. "But it's clear he's smitten. Been so ever since he came back from the States."

Elise's heart skipped. Six years of carrying a torch wasn't something to scoff at, and the revelation moved something in her. 

“You two didn’t…, you know, when he was here did you?” Chan asked with a mischievous glint in his eye and brow raised. Elise pulled her gaze away from Jisung, rolling her eyes and giving Chan an ‘are you serious?’ face before he continued, “Cause that would actually explain a lot. Like why he’s so whipped!” Changbin and Minho erupted into laughter.

“Dude you’re such a dick!” Changbin wheezed out.

Elise was about to respond with something equally as snarky when Jisung reappeared, weaving through the crowd with two drinks in hand, his cheeks flushed either from the alcohol or, possibly, the impending embarrassment.

"Here you go Elise," Jisung said as he handed her a glass. His eyes moved from Chan to Changbing to Minho, who were all smirking. “They’re talking about me, aren’t they?” His voice was smooth despite the flush spreading from his cheeks to his neck and ears, clearly catching wind of his members' teasing.

"Wow, look at him blush," Changbin sang out, not missing a beat. "You'd think he's the one meeting his idol tonight." 

"Shut up, hyung," Jisung muttered, a playful scowl on his face as he nudged Changbin's shoulder. The camaraderie between them was evident, even as they ribbed each other mercilessly.

"Ah, Jisung, no need to be shy. We're all family here," Minho chimed in, draping an arm around Jisung's shoulders.

"Family that apparently knows all my secrets," Jisung grumbled, but there was a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his annoyance.

"Only the ones worth knowing," Chan said with a wink. "And trust me, your saga with Professor Richards, I mean, Elise? Definitely worth knowing."

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Jisung conceded, but his arm found its way around Elise's waist once more, drawing her in close. His touch was bold, possessive, yet somehow reverent.

Elise took a sip of her refreshed drink. “To answer your question Chan: No. At least not yet,” she said as she cocked her head to the side with a sly smirk before taking another sip. 

Changbin and Minho’s mouths dropped open in shock before they burst into uncontrollable laughter. Chan smirked back. “Ok, then professor,” he teased. “Ooh, we like her Han. She’s spicy!”

"Sorry for their lack of filter," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. The flirtatious edge in his voice suggested anything but an apology.

"Nothing to apologize for," Elise murmured back, leaning into his embrace. "I find it endearing how much you've shared. And flattering too."

"Good," Jisung replied, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Because what I've said doesn't even scratch the surface of how I feel about you."

The words, raw and unfiltered, charged the air between them with an electrifying current. Elise felt her pulse quicken, her body responding instinctively to his proximity. The heat of his chest pressed against her back, the firmness of his hand on her hip – it was all-consuming, dizzying in its intensity. She took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne mingling with the fragrance of her own skin, a sensory cocktail that left her head swimming.

"Careful, Jisung," she teased with a coy tilt of her head as she turned to face him, enjoying the playfulness that danced between them. "Keep that up, and you might just get what you've been pining for all these years."

"Is that a promise, Dr. Richards?" His voice was low, a seductive rumble that matched the bass vibrating through the floorboards.

"Maybe," she breathed out, her gaze locking with his, a silent challenge passing through the depths of her light brown eyes. 

Elise felt the thrum of the music shift as Jisung guided her to a dimly lit corner, away from the crowd and his troublemaking members. The air was cooler here, the laughter and chatter from the party now a soft murmur against the backdrop of sultry beats. A velvet love seat sat unoccupied, offering a sanctuary amidst the chaos. She sank into it, the fabric soft beneath her fingers, and Jisung perched beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"Elise," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the din with intimate clarity. "There's something I have to tell you."

She turned to face him, the proximity sending a jolt of anticipation through her veins. His eyes searched hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, reflecting the amber glow of the scattered fairy lights.

"Ever since I left for Korea," he confided, his words slow and measured, "you've been on my mind. There was a part of me that wondered about you — about us — over the years. Yes, I’ve been with other women, and as I’m sure my members told you, it always comes back to you."

The confession hung heavy in the air, weighted with years of unspoken thoughts and repressed yearnings. Elise could see the sincerity etching lines of vulnerability across Jisung's usually playful features.

"Jisung..." she whispered, unsure how to continue. Her heart hammered against her ribs, betraying the cool demeanor she clung to. This man, this achingly beautiful soul who had once been her student, was confessing a longing that he’d held onto for years.

"Say something, please," he urged gently, his hand finding its way to her knee, a touch both comforting and electric. “I know you feel something too, even if you won't admit it."

Elise bit her lip, conflicted. She couldn't deny the spark between them, the exhilarating tension that had been building all evening. She was caught between the professional boundaries she'd always upheld and the raw, undeniable chemistry that currently sizzled between them. Her mind raced with images of their shared past—his eager eyes drinking in her lectures, the innocent brush of their hands over a shared textbook, the kiss after the confession of his crush.

"Jisung, we can't," she started, “We shouldn’t."

His thumb traced circles on her skin, each loop igniting a fire within her.

"Then let's not talk about what we can't and shouldn’t do," he said, his voice dropping to that husky tone that made her insides flutter. "Let's talk about what we want to do." Jisung leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Forget about the rules for tonight, for me," he murmured. "Just let yourself feel." He kissed her gently on the neck, his lips lingering against her skin.

Elise leaned in, drawn by the gravity of his presence, her rational mind warring with the pulsating desire coursing through her. She was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched—the heat of his thigh against hers, his hand on her knee drifting upwards, his nose grazing her jawline, the tantalizing gap between his chest and her folded arms.

"Jisung, this is insane," she breathed out, though her body leaned closer as he peppered her neck with more soft kisses, betraying her words. "We're at a party full of your fans, your bandmates..." 

"None of them matter right now," he interrupted, his gaze fierce. "You're all I see, Elise. All I've seen for so long."

The confession stripped away the last of her defenses, leaving her exposed in the face of his raw need. The room around them seemed to fade, the sounds and sights dissolving until there was nothing but the magnetic pull between them.

The bottle of wine at dinner coupled with the shots and cocktails she had since arriving at the party were doing her no favors. Fuck! she thought.

"Let's find somewhere we can hear each other," Jisung murmured into Elise's ear, his breath making her quiver. “I’m tired of sharing you with all these other people.” The laughter and music of the party became a distant hum as she considered his proposal. His eyes, dark pools of intent, locked onto hers, promising untold pleasures.

Elise hesitated, the professor in her screaming cautions into the wind. But the woman—the one who hadn’t been wanted like this in a very long time—nodded, succumbing to the seductive pull of what might be.

With a triumphant yet tender smile, Jisung intertwined his fingers with hers, leading her away from the crowd. Each step they took together was laden with urgency, their hands clasped as if nothing could pry them apart. Through the groups of people, past the pulsating lights, they moved in sync, heading toward an escape all their own.

The hotel corridor was silent compared to the suite's cacophony, their footfalls on the plush carpet the only sound. As they reached the door to Jisung's room further down the hall, Elise’s pulse raced.

He didn't waste a moment; as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jisung's arms were around her, pressing her back against the cool wall. Their lips crashed together in a kiss that was both a revelation and a homecoming—a fusion of heat and hunger that dulled the world to nothingness as his tongue danced with hers. The taste of wine and liquor lingered between them, mingling with the flavor of longing long-contained.

Elise gasped into the kiss as Jisung's hands began their fevered exploration over the curves he had only dared to touch in dreams. They traced a path up her sides, over fabric that felt too restrictive, too much of a barrier for the inferno building within them.

Her senses ignited, every brush of his fingertips sparking lightning beneath her skin. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the musk of desire, filled her lungs, intoxicating her further into abandon. The sound of their mingled breaths became the rhythm to which their bodies swayed.

As they broke the kiss for air, Elise's head spun, her thoughts scrambled by the fervent intensity of his embrace with a passion that threatened to consume her whole.

"I… I," she stuttered, searching for words that didn't come. How could she possibly articulate the maelstrom of emotions whirling within her? The guilt of her attraction to her former student, the thrill of transgression, and the overwhelming desire for more.

Jisung's lips traced a fiery path along her jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he moved to her neck. "I've been thinking about this, about re-doing that kiss from the sidewalk every day for the past six years, Elise," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion. "I hope this kiss was better.” 

Holy fuck, it was, Elise thought to herself, still trying to catch her breath from the onslaught of his lips and tongue. This kiss was nothing like the last one, which was cute, innocent, inexperienced. 

Jisung continued, his lips now reaching her collarbone. “I've been dreaming about picking up where we left off, about what would have happened if I'd had the balls to ask for more." His hands continued their exploration, sliding over her ass and continuing until they were on the back of her thighs before slipping beneath her dress. "I want you, Elise," Jisung breathed against her skin. "I've only ever wanted you. I thought about reaching out over the years, but I was scared, worried you’d never see me as anything more than a student, just a kid. But I’m a man now, and I know what I fucking want." His lips continued their journey, moving to her shoulders, as his hands inched up higher beneath her dress.

"Jisung," she gasped when she felt his fingers tracing the edge of her panties, her protests losing their strength with every heartbeat thundering in her ears. "We can't—"

"I know," he interrupted, his voice suddenly urgent. "But I'm selfish, and I want this—want you—tonight." He pulled back, his eyes boring into hers, a mixture of heat and vulnerability. "Can I have you Elise?" he whispered, the sound so low she could barely hear him. “Even if it’s just for tonight. Tomorrow we can go back to our lives, but tonight... let me have all of you.” Elise, breathless and yearning, stared back at him. Despite her better judgment, her conscience silenced by the roaring in her ears, she nodded.

With a groan, Jisung crushed his lips to hers again, more urgent now, fueled by her breathless consent. This time, there was no pretense of restraint or control. This was pure, unadulterated hunger, the culmination of years of pent-up desire and longing. Their tongues dueled, battling for dominance. Elise ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Jisung’s hands slide further up, pushing her dress higher. She gasped as he slid a finger under her panties, teasing her sensitive flesh. His other hand grasped her hip to pull her firmly against him. She could feel his hardening cock pressed against her, sending spikes of heat to her core.

The passion between them ignited like a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path. One of Jisung's hands found the zipper at the back of her dress and deftly undid it, sliding it down her shoulders and letting it flutter to the floor revealing her lacy lingerie beneath. Elise, equally as impatient, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, quickly helping him out of it so she could finally run her hands over the muscular planes of his chest and trace the raised edges of his tattoos with her fingertips. He groaned into her mouth at the skin-on-skin contact. She also undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them off until he was standing in nothing but his boxer briefs.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?" he growled, his voice raw with lust. He slid the straps of her bra down her arms, before unhooking it in the back, then he peeled off her panties, letting them fall down her legs. Before she knew it, Elise stood naked before him, her body on fire, aching for him.

Jisung's eyes roamed her form, his appreciation and lust unhidden. Reverently, he ran a finger down her centerline, starting from her chin and grazing over the skin on her neck, chest, between her breasts, then over her stomach and past her belly button. Elise moaned as his fingers danced over her exposed skin, the action causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. His lips followed the same path as his finger, trailing kisses down her body. When his fingers reached the sensitive flesh between her legs, Elise let out an involuntary moan this time, arching into his touch as he slipped his fingers into her. 

Jisung looked up at her, eyes dark with lust. In one swift motion he stood, hooking his hands under her thighs to lift her up. Elise gasped in surprise but instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. She could feel his dick, hard and insistent, pressed against her.

Carrying her effortlessly, as if she weighed no more than a feather, Jisung made his way to the bedroom, laying her down gently against the soft sheets on the bed. 

Hovering above her, Jisung paused to admire her splayed out before him, hair fanned out against the pillows, lips swollen from their kisses. He drank in the sight of her as if committing every curve and contour to memory. His eyes burned with a feral hunger that sent a spike of arousal through Elise. Slowly, he stripped off his boxers, freeing his hardened length. Elise's eyes widened as she bit her lower lip, taking in every inch of him.

His hand slid between her legs once more, parting her slick folds and rubbing against her clit. Elise's back arched off the bed at the exquisite sensation, a throaty moan escaping her lips.

Jisung watched her reactions hungrily as he stroked her most sensitive spots, sunk fingers in deeper, learning what made her gasp. Each movement of his fingers was a question, each of her gasps and moans an answer. He was learning her, mapping the terrain of her pleasure, and the intensity of his focus made her head spin.

Elise's thoughts tumbled over each other, a chaotic mix of rationalizations and justifications. This was madness, this was wrong, this was everything she had ever wanted and more. The guilt of giving in, the fear of what this could mean, the sheer unadulterated joy of being desired like this—all of it clashed and collided in her mind, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

Her eyes traced the lines of his body, the lean musculature of his torso, the sharp angles of his hip bones, the sinewy strength of his thighs. He was beautiful in a way that was almost painful, a living, breathing work of art, and the realization that he wanted her—had always wanted her—was nearly too much to bear.

Jisung shifted, his fingers never leaving her as he lowered himself to his knees at the edge of the bed. He kissed her inner thighs, first one and then the other, his lips soft and teasing. Then his mouth found its way to her clit. Elise's hands flew to his hair, her fingers weaving through the long, dark strands as her body tightened and her hips rocked against his face.

Just as she thought she might tumble over, Jisung rose, his face flushed, his eyes burning with a mix of lust and something deeper. He crawled onto the bed, his body sliding over hers, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. His hand trailed up her side, over her breast, and along her neck, leaving a path of tingling nerve endings in its wake.

Their mouths found each other again as the cool air caressed their overheated skin, goosebumps erupting where their flesh met. Jisung's touch was both reverent and possessive.

"I have you now," he growled, his voice thick with desire as he positioned himself at her entrance. "Six years, Elise. Six fucking years of dreaming about this moment."

"Then what are you waiting for?" she challenged, her words a breathless whisper.

With a growl, he entered her in one swift, powerful stroke, filling her completely, stretching her in ways she hadn’t felt in a long time. Elise cried out, nails digging into his shoulders at the sudden intrusion. Her walls clenched around him, her body welcoming him home as if he'd always belonged there.

Jisung began to move inside her, each thrust a slow, measured invasion that set her entire body on fire. His youthful energy paired with her experienced touch created a perfect storm of sensations, each stroke and counter-thrust more exquisite than the last. Elise arched her back, meeting him halfway, her moans and gasps mingling with his labored breaths.

His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he picked up the pace, driving into her harder, faster, until they were both panting and soaked in sweat. The headboard slammed against the wall in time with their frenzied rhythm, the room echoing with their wanton cries.

This was Jisung – the boy she'd known years ago – now a man before her very eyes. And she was losing herself right along with him.

Elise moaned, her voice raw with desire as Jisung's strokes deepened, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the exquisite torture of being inside her. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, each one more intense than the last. Her fingers dug into his back, scraping down his spine as she fought to hold on, her body a live wire of sensation.

Jisung's lips brushed against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. He whispered words of praise and filthy promises, alternating between English and Korean, the dichotomy only serving to heighten her arousal. Each foreign syllable rolled off his tongue like a seductive chant, making her pulse quicken and her pussy tighten around him.

"You feel so fucking good," he panted, his breath hot against her ear, his hips rocking back and forth with increasing urgency. "Better than I ever imagined."

Elise's mind was a blur, unable to process the mix of languages, the onslaught of sensations, the sheer intensity of his need for her. She had never felt so desired, so completely consumed by another person. Every word he spoke, every thrust of his body, was a declaration of his longing, a reminder of the years he had waited for this moment.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps as she teetered on the edge of release, her body winding tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap. Jisung's hands roamed her curves, his touch both possessive and worshipful, as if he couldn't believe she was real and not some figment of his imagination.

"Elise," he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you. I need all of you."

The room seemed to close in around them, the air heavy with their mingled sweat and desire. The sounds of their bodies colliding, the bed creaking in protest, created a symphony of lust that drowned out all other thoughts. Elise was lost, completely and utterly, in the moment, in him.

Jisung's pace became almost frantic, each thrust more demanding than the last. He was on the brink, and she could feel herself being pulled along with him, their bodies moving in perfect, desperate harmony.

In the midst of their fevered passion, Jisung's movements slowed, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, more precise. Elise could feel every inch of him, her body hypersensitive to his touch. It was as if he were trying to extend the moment, to make it last forever.

She grasped his shoulders, her nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as she braced for each slow, torturous stroke. Elise's breath hitched, her body trembling beneath him as the tension built to an unbearable peak. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, could taste the salt of his sweat on her lips.

Jisung's eyes locked onto hers, a fierce intensity burning in their depths. He was holding on by a thread, his determination to draw out their pleasure evident in every controlled movement. Elise's mind was a blur of sensation and emotion, the slow build driving her to the brink of madness.

Unable to maintain this slow pace he had set, Jisung picked back up his speed, thrusting into her with a fervor that spoke of deep-rooted yearning. 

"Elise," Jisung groaned, his rhythm unyielding as he sought their peak. The sound of his voice, laden with both reverence and raw need, was enough to unravel her completely. She felt her climax approaching like a wave ready to break upon the shore, inevitable and all-consuming.

"Jisung—yes. Yes!" she gasped, her world narrowing to the point of unbearable intensity. And then, with a shudder that ran through her soul, Elise surrendered to the torrent of pleasure. Her cry mingled with Jisung's as he followed, his own release flooding her senses, marking her in the most primal way. They clutched each other, hearts thundering against chests, as the surge of fulfillment swept them away, erasing the years of separation that had once seemed insurmountable.

In the quiet aftermath, they lay entwined, the cadence of their breathing the only sound in the room. Elise traced the line of Jisung’s jaw with a fingertip, the action tender. He turned his head to press a kiss into her palm, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that belied the gentle touch.

"Stay," he whispered, the single word a plea wrapped in vulnerability. It wasn't just for tonight—it was a silent petition for nights thereafter, a hope for a future where this intimacy was not a stolen moment, but a continuous thread woven into the fabric of their lives.

"I'm not going anywhere," Elise promised, her voice soft but resolute. In the cocoon of their embrace, promises were etched into skin and sealed with lingering kisses, the taste of wine and desire still fresh on their tongues. As dawn's first light began to creep along the edges of the curtains, Jisung pulled her closer, his lips finding hers once more.

****

The warm rays of morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, gently rousing Elise from her slumber. As consciousness slowly returned, she became acutely aware of an unfamiliar weight draped across her waist. Her eyes fluttered open, breath catching as memories from the night before came flooding back.

Jisung's arm was wrapped possessively around her, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths against her back. The heat of his skin seeped into her, igniting a tingling warmth that spread through her body. 

Holy shit. This actually happened, she thought.

Her body flushed as vivid images flashed through her mind. Jisung pressing her up against the wall of his hotel suite, his lips hot on her neck. Their tangle of limbs and discarded clothing. His lean, toned body moving above her, inside her...

She hadn’t really done anything wrong, given that Jisung hadn’t been her student for many years now; yet, she still felt kind of guilty. It was mildly unethical. And yet... Elise couldn't deny the quiet thrill that coursed through her veins. The night they'd shared had been passionate, intense, unlike anything she'd experienced before. 

There was an unexpected tenderness to Jisung's touch, a depth of emotion in his gaze that stirred something within her. He wasn't just some hot young celebrity looking for a quick hookup. The connection between them felt real, meaningful.

Elise's heart raced as she grappled with the intensity of her feelings. It had been years since she’d seen him, and yet she felt drawn to Jisung in a way that both thrilled and terrified her. How could she have fallen so hard, so fast, in two fucking days?

And yet, as Jisung's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer in his sleep, Elise couldn't help but melt into his embrace. For just a moment, she allowed herself to savor the intimacy, pushing aside all thoughts of the complications that awaited.

Elise shifted in bed, careful not to wake Jisung as she turned to face him. She took a moment to study his face, so at peace in slumber. His dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks, and his full lips curved upward in a contented smile. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the quiet sound of his breathing, soothed her in a way she never thought possible.

How could she ever have resisted him? He had grown into such a beautiful, sexy, sensual man, so different from the adorkable boy she once knew. Last night, Jisung had been attentive, considerate, but also dominant in a way that turned her on.

As if sensing her gaze, Jisung's dark, almond-shaped eyes fluttered open, his lids blinking sleepily as he squinted in the morning light. Their gazes locked. In that moment, Elise felt exposed, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was no judgement or regret in his eyes, only a wellspring of emotion mirroring her own.

"Hey," Jisung murmured, his voice gruff with sleep.

"Hi," Elise whispered, her voice barely audible.

The tension in the air thickened as they lingered in the aftermath of their passionate night together. It was as though their pasts, their present, and their potential future were all colliding in that single, sultry exchange.

As the sun continued its ascent, casting a warm glow over their tangled limbs, Elise knew that their world had irrevocably shifted. The unspoken understanding between them was as potent as the scent of the salty air wafting through the open window.

"So," Jisung said, breaking the silence as he stretched languidly, his muscles rippling with each movement. "I take it last night...?"

Elise couldn't help but giggle, the sound foreign yet welcome in the stillness of the morning. "Yeah," she managed, her cheeks flushing. "Definitely happened."

Jisung's grin reached his eyes, the same mischievous glint she remembered from years prior. "And?"

"It was..." Elise trailed off, at a loss for words.

"Amazing," Jisung finished for her, flashing her a cocky grin. 

Elise playfully swatted his chest, their laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves below.

"Well you certainly know how to show a girl a good time, Jisung," she quipped, her cheeks flushing.

"I aim to please, Dr. Richards," he deadpanned, his voice dripping with fake formality before he broke out in a wide grin.

An awkward silence settled over them, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Elise wasn't sure where to start, how to broach the elephant in the room. What did one say after spending the night with their former student?

"That was..." Jisung began, his voice tentative, as if he were treading on fragile ground, “everything I hoped it would be.”

"It was... it was incredible, but it was just one night. It doesn't need to mean anything. Just a one-time thing, right?”

Jisung's expression clouded over. “If… if that’s what you want.” He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about her words. 

They lay there in silence, the tension between them thick. Elise traced patterns on the crumpled sheets, desperately trying to ignore the throbbing, but pleasant ache between her thighs.

"So, what now?" Jisung asked, his voice neutral, as if discussing the weather rather than the earth-shattering, life-changing night they'd just shared.

Elise shrugged, feigning indifference. "I guess we go back to our respective lives? You go back to being a talented, sexy idol with millions of fans who would do anything for you, and I go back to academia. Just... forget this ever happened."

Jisung nodded, his jaw clenching. "Forget it ever happened," he echoed hollowly.

Elise forced a smile. "Right."

“Right,” Jisung echoed again. As Elise’s words hung heavy in the air, he shifted onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Elise could see the wheels in his head spinning and she wondered what he was thinking. After a minute, he sighed and then turned back onto his side to face her again. “It’s just…. I don’t think I can do that. I can’t pretend that last night never happened when it’s everything I’ve dreamed of for so long.” Jisung reached for her, his fingers brushing against her bare thigh. She quivered at his touch. “Elise,” he breathed, his voice low and hoarse with need, “you can’t tell me you felt nothing. That it didn’t feel… right.”

"Jisung," she whispered, her voice a shaky whisper.

In one fluid motion, Jisung leaned in, his lips crashing against hers in a feverish kiss. Elise moaned into his mouth, her resolve crumbling like sand against the relentless tide of their desire. His hands roamed up her thighs, gripping her hips as he pulled her impossibly closer. Her top leg locked around his waist, the blanket falling to the floor, forgotten. Before she knew it, she felt Jisung’s cock slowly filling her up, an involuntary sigh leaving her lips as he pushed in to the hilt. 

As they lay side-by-side, their bodies moved as one, their rhythm the complete opposite of the night before, now slow and steady. The frenzy of last night was about fulfilling long-held desires; the calm passion of this morning was more about Jisung proving that she was more than just a number to add to his body count. Jisung's hips rocked gently into hers, the feeling of his cock rubbing back and forth against the sensitive walls of her pussy sending quakes through her body.

Elise ran her fingers through Jisung's hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. She could taste the desperation and hope on his lips, each stroke of his tongue a plea for something more. Her hands traveled down his back, feeling the play of his muscles as he moved with a languid grace. Every touch, every caress was laden with an unspoken promise, a question of what could be.

Their breathing grew heavier, each exhale a hot burst against the other's skin. Jisung's hand slid up her side, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with his thumb. A jolt of pleasure shot through Elise, causing her to arch her back and press harder against him. She could feel the tension building, the slow burn of their union threatening to consume her.

"Elise," Jisung whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. "I need you to believe this means something."

She closed her eyes, fighting the torrent of feelings that his words unleashed. 

Jisung's movements became more deliberate, each thrust a declaration, each kiss a vow. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the raw, electric connection they shared. Elise's body responded to him with a fervor she couldn't control.

The tension between them reached a breaking point, their bodies on the edge of an abyss. Elise clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she braced for the fall.

Finally, with a joint cry, they climaxed together, their bodies shuddering in tandem as they rode out the pleasure. As their breathing slowed, Jisung held her against his body. 

“Wow,” Elise panted, burying her flaming face in his shoulder.

Jisung chuckled softly, his chest still heaving with exertion. "Wow," he echoed.

Elise looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing. "What now?"

Jisung traced a finger down her flushed cheek, his expression serious. "This can be whatever you want it to be, Elise. But know this," he whispered, his gaze smoldering, "I've wanted you for a very long time. And now that I've had a taste, I don't think I can ever let you go."

Elise's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She knew she should end this, that this surely couldn’t last. But as she looked into his sincere, smoldering eyes, she knew she was lost.

"Okay," she breathed, her voice shaking with emotion. “Let’s see where this takes us.”

With a tender smile, Jisung leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt in her mind. They were in this; they were doing this.

“So… New York then?” he raised an eyebrow as he made the same offer he had last night to get her tickets to the show. “Except I rescind the offer to give up my room. I want every opportunity I have to fuck you silly.” He buried his face in her neck, tickling the delicate skin with kisses. 

“Okay ‘Ace’,” she said, giggling as she poked his chest. “I’ll see you in New York.”

Jisung’s eyes sparkled with triumph. "You won’t regret it," he promised, his lips brushing against hers in a feather-light kiss.

"I better not," she teased, biting her lower lip seductively. "You’ll need to make it worth my while."

"Oh, I will," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I plan on making every second count."

[peggyao3]

Pt. 5 - Rough Sex

A/N: woof woof bark barkkkk 😩

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, very dub-con, dom!Feyd, power imbalance, "pet" nickname

Word Count: 400

The dust and air of the arena trail after him like the tendrils of a cloak when Feyd-Rautha enters the bowels of the gargantuan structure, cold air on his skin, but not cold enough to cool him. One battle won, the next battle awaits.

His pet concubine awaits him at the center of the room, her hands unbound, her flesh naked like a meal. Feyd banishes her handlers with a jerk of the head and they retreat from the chamber like shadows. 

Her pretty eyes glide over his bare torso, the sweat-smeared residue of battle paint that streaks down his twitching belly, the white sand that sticks to his bulging muscles, swollen from adrenaline and the thrill of the kill.

"Come to me and kiss my feet," he orders and is unsurprisingly met with a disdainful sneer, her haughty nose held high as if she had even the sliver of a chance to reject him.

"Go kiss them yourself," she snaps and expects him to lunge, but she hadn't thought he would be this fast.

Feyd-Rautha throws himself at her quicker than a snapping bowstring, scorching, hard muscles colliding with her clammy skin.

He throws her on her front and she catches herself just barely with aching knees and elbow, trying to drag herself away despite the pain in her joints, but Feyd-Rautha is on top of her with little patience to play with his prey today. Too big the desire to let his cock taste blood after his blade has tasted it so manifold.

Her body screams, her walls protest when he presses the head of his slick-hot cock against her entrance. But there is no mistaking the shimmer of wetness that soaks the folds of her cunt.

"You've been touching yourself to the thought of me, pet?"

"N-No-o-o!" She yelps out, rearing up only to be shoved back down with Feyd-Rautha's hand splayed across her upper back, tits squashed against the cold tiles. He sinks inside with harsh, rutting thrusts, no fingers to prepare her, not even spit from his cruel, sinful mouth.

"So you got wet all by yourself, listening to me fight?"

"No, no, no~"

"Don't lie to me, pet," he barks, blood-stained fingers twisting into the flesh of her ass. "Don't worry… I'm going to take you apart until you can only crawl."

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring

[hi-fidelitea]

ghoulcy prompts

@oraeliaa's prompt: I always always love a quiet campfire moment 🔥 Far out in the desert, they come across an outcrop of rocks. A lonely shack hangs off the side, half-buried by sand.

It's a good place for 'a little R-and-R', as the Ghoul says—that stands for rest and relaxation.

Inside the shack is a dried-out corpse. That doesn't surprise Lucy. What does give her pause is the position of body—curled in the corner, clasped hands pillowed under dusty red hair.

Not dead, just sleeping.

The shack's roof is mostly gone and beyond the rafters, the sky grows dark.

The Ghoul wrenches a board from the wall and uses his heel to break the dry rot apart, then stacks it in the middle of the room like Lincoln Logs. Lucy watches with some curiosity until his attention turns to the body. When the knife comes out, she turns away.

She flicks to the map on the Pip-boy.

Zooms out.

Tries to measure the time between here and New Vegas. Tries not to listen as the Ghoul reduces the body to parts. The sound is hard to ignore—a soft, dry sawing that turns her stomach. This far out, the radio only picks up static, so she hums a little to herself.

But then there's a sharp, stinging smell. Burnt hair.

Lucy looks up. The Ghoul is on one knee, fanning the beginnings of a campfire, using corpse hair as kindling.

"I don't think you should build a fire inside."

"Given the state of this shithole,"—he makes an empty gesture to the dirt floor, and all the holes in the siding—"I'd say the inside's outside."

"Well, okay, but won't the light attract attention? Or the smoke? I made a campfire my first night up here and almost got my face chewed off by a radroach."

The Ghoul gravely says: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the goddamn valley." "Is that...a quote from something?"

"Don't worry about it," he sighs with a shake of the head. "Listen, Vaultie, there's a couple miles of sand between us and anything worth shooting. The only thing to worry about out here is me."

"Oh. Okie dokie, then."

She drags her bedroll into the circle of warmth. Dogmeat grumbles at the relocation, but is soon back to making small sleeping noises at the foot of the bedding. Lucy sits and hugs her knees to her chest.

Smoke drifts into the night sky. Pop—a burst of sparks shoots upward.

Across the campfire, the Ghoul lies on his side on the bare earth, propped up on his elbows. He takes a swig from a flask and bares his teeth on swallowing. She drops her stare into the bright center of the flames.

Lucy wonders how he'd use her body if she died.

"That looks uncomfortable," she says, making conversation to distract from going down morbid rabbit holes. "Laying on the ground like that."

The Ghoul shrugs. "I got whiskey, jerky, and enough chems to get to where I'm goin'. Can't get any more comfortable than that." Then he looks at her in a sly, angling way. "Why? You got room in there for me?"

And there's just something in the way he says it— When Norm was little, he would wake her up every other night. He was afraid of everything; afraid of the dark, afraid of the HVAC sounds, and afraid of the closet, and the underside of his bed, and he was afraid of having that one dream again, it was so scary, Lucy, can I sleep in bed with you, please? Just this once?

The firelight casts strange, flickering shadows over the skeletal remains of the shack. The Ghoul doesn't need her to check for a monster under the bed, he is the monster. But she's feeling tender and lonely, and a little afraid of everything.

Lucy wiggles into the bedroll and holds the corner open.

Just this once.

"Sure."

The next morning, the cinders of the campfire have long cooled. The Ghoul does not protest as she digs a shallow grave and lays the body to rest.

[bumblee27]

Boo! Guess who's doing Whumptober? I hope y'all are prepared for how many times I'm going to kill off each member of Sherlock & Co. (My interpretations of prompts will definitely vary across fandoms, but it will be quite a lot of torturing the silly detectives <3) Also I apologise for the layout they're all gonna be like this :'D

• 1 • "if only we could hold on" •

It wasn't his fault. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, blinding him to danger - as is the way of the soldier. He was so fixed on the thrill of the chase, he didn't hear Sherlock's warning shout. He didn't see the empty elevator shaft.

That is, until he was already falling.

Alarm bells of terror screamed within him, but his military reflexes threw out an arm with lightning speed to catch himself on a ledge. His whole body jolted to discover that it was no longer falling, but instead almost impossibly suspended.

He gasped for breath as he processed his situation, his heart thudding inside his chest. He had just barely managed to grab onto a part of the elevator's unfinished mechanic built into the wall. The entrance through which he had fallen was about as far away as his own height three or four times over. Beneath him was (as John perceived it) endless nothingness.

“Shit.”

He had processed it.

“Shit, shit shit shit, oh my god, oh my fucking god-”

John had always scorned the trope of seeing one's life flash before their eyes. He called it cliché. Unrealistic. But now, he watched.

As his blood pounded in his ears and he grew increasingly aware of his hand growing slippery with sweat, he watched

He saw his childhood home in Shoscombe. He saw his school friends playing in the street. He saw the way his mum couldn't help herself from crying when she told him his dad wasn't coming home. He saw Afghanistan, he saw Ukraine. He saw his comrades, little more than blurry faces now. He saw the first time he got the mic running. He saw Stamford, he saw- he watched himself meet Sherlock. That man, so strange, so - covered in blood - why did he ever go to look at a flat with him?

He almost smiled.

He was glad he did, though.

He watched himself meet Mariana for the first time, too, and the day she moved in with them. He watched every single case, one after the other, tick by. Such significant moments of his life, gone in a second like they meant nothing.

“John!”

John snapped back to reality with a start. He looked up, to see Sherlock's face staring down at him. “Take my hand!”

The outstretched arm was miles away. “I- I can't!”

“Yes, you can! Take it!”

“It's too far!”

“Reach! For God's sake, Watson, take my hand!”

John swallowed thickly, feeling strangely like he had eaten sand. “I am not dragging you down with me.”

Sherlock blinked. “What-? Don't be ridiculous!”

“You can't let him get away. Promise me you won't.”

“Take. The bloody. Hand!" John had never seen Sherlock desperate before. He was always so stubborn, so sure of himself.

He took a deep breath. “Please- please tell Mariana I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sherlock.”

And then his hand lost its grip.

He was vaguely aware of Sherlock screaming his name, but he didn't quite register it, which was probably a good thing.

And one memory stayed firmly and vividly in his mind. It was a picture, a freeze-frame, of Mariana and Sherlock.

They were laughing.

[graylinesspam]

Beach episode with the 501st?🙃🙃

The trees were so densely packed there was no way they could get a gunship through them. Looking up you could only barely glimpse the yellow sky through the gaps between the branches.

The trees were green, but a bright burning yellow green that consumed everything in sight. Wet and glossed over in the moisture rolling in with the wind. The smell of salt brine in the air.

The leaves shuddered and shook their wet burden onto anyone within range. Like a hound shaking it's self dry.

The water dripped down their backs and chafed uncomfortably in the fabric of their clothes.

They must make it to the shore, in the line where the trees break, it was the only place they could escape the green maze. The smell of brine and the sound of birds their guide out of it.

The relief that befell them when the forest finally broke was palpable. White armor spilling out of the line of it like whites out of an egg.

That might make Ahsoka the yolk. She drops to her knees in the silty loose sand and rolls dramatically down the incline, dark sediment sticking to the moisture on her skin and shading it bizarrely in the bright sunlight.

Soldiers chuckle at her antics but more of them follow her example, sliding awkwardly down the loose ground on their heels, hands held back to steady themselves.

She sits up at the line of the water and peels her feet from her boots, shucks the skirt she wore over her leggings and practically drags herself into the water by her hands.

The water is cool. At least cooler that the air. Even thick with moisture it is boiling hot on this planet. The water congregated in the large salty pools however, were a relieving temperature.

It was dark in color, partially purple from the loose microscopic algae floating through it. The water a dark over oxygenated blue without the debris.

Vere, an older brother, stepped into the water beside her. The water rushes past his legs, running up the sand before falling back away, leaving little purple dots across the plastoid.

He heaves a sigh as he tugs his weapon from it's holster and holds it in his hands, bends at the knees and sits down in the water. His weapon kept as dry as he can manage.

Less responsible vod chuck their blasters onto the sand and start pealing away their armor too until only the bottom half remains. Their black shirts looking tight in contrast to their bulky armor. They wade into the hallows sighing in relief.

Their excitement quickly turns into playfulness as they begin to pelt each other with hand fulls of water. stray splashes flying around and spraying anyone unfortunate enough to be near them.

Ahsoka reclines in the cool water, letting herself drift slowly back and forth with the rhythm of the waves. Stretching out her sore muscles and feeling each curling caress of the cool liquid as it crested over her body and slid along her skin. Softer than silk.

Vere is vigilant as all scouts are. The sounds of the water, of shouting and merriment might reduce their ability to heat a threat coming but there isn't much that could hide from his trained eyes.

He scans their surroundings while Ahsoka's hand curls around his ankle, anchoring herself so that she wouldn't drift too far.

It's only a temporary relief from the fray. And the salt licks at their wounds with a hot tongue despite the actually temperature of the water. But it is a luxury none the less. One they intend to take full advantage of while they have the chance.

It is that urgency to make all they can of this reprieve that leads to Ahsoka herself, disturbed from her floating meditation, sitting up in the shallows and shouting.

"HEY, quit trying to drown your brother."

[mofffun]

Kingohger Movie spoiler log

every shot and line i remember in order. reminder lines might not be 100% accurate

started with Gira staring at Rainoir's statue in the Shugoddom throne room. He looks uncertain.

Jeramie is sitting on a spider-string attached across the giant gears to the throne's right

Jeramie jumps down and asks Gira what he wants to do as King

Rita and Douga enter to tell Gira it's time for the coronation

Coronation

Ep1 Kings march scene (Kagu, Himeno, Yanma)

the three chitchat. Himeno complains about making her go outside and Kagu says it's Gira's idea to show the people their kings.

As Kaguragi sits down, a kuroko helps straigten his sleeve.

Gira arrives in Kuwagon

Ceremony starts. Gira's march is interrupted by Debonica and her song

Debonica introduces herself all solemnly as the navigator of the underworld but Gira is just happy to reunite with a childhood friend. The public looks confused.

Debonica used to live in the orphanage/grew up with Gira. She is older than Gira but always lazy and didn't help out.

"I'm here to bring Gira Husty to meet his ancestor and the 5 kings to the Underworld"

reaction shot of Yanma, Hime, Kaguragi looking interested (as if they knew??? ← my interpretation)

Debonica sings and a space whale flies them to Haaka Baaka. The whale is like a zeppelin and what hangs under is a circular disc the kings stood on (like one side of a scale). Rita keeps looking at the direction they came (their back to camera)

Gira recalls the orphans throwing a birthday party for Debonica but she never showed up. Flashback shot shows Gira waking up from a nap and in front of him on the table is the simple homemade birthday cake with a bite taken. Himeno asks if they are "just" childhood friends

Debonica seems upset and sings again, a rectangular dimension gate appears in the sky [Kagu's trailer line about Underworld's gate only opens when a new King of Shugddom is crowned]

Arriving in the Underworld

Haaka Baaka is this floating space with no up/down (a mix of zero gravity/underwater) and ghosts turn into jellyfish-like creatures and fly around. There're ruins of the five castles in the bkg.

Gira, Yanma, Rita land [trailer spinning shot]. Rita asks where did Himeno and Kaguragi go.

Ashes version of Bugnarok foot soldiers appear and attack the trio. They seem to be in a bit of trouble with each of them being grabbed by three foot soldiers or more.

[Aoto said they shot more of wings out-of-suit action here but ended up being cut. When he's in trouble from the enemy dragging his arm so hard it hurts, he turned around and saw Rita doing clean slashes and posing cooly so he felt left out 😅]

Rainoir appears and with a flick of his arm disintegrated the enemy. Each step he goes, a new block materialises from ashes under his foot.

Yanma says the Husty name with weight while Gira recognizes Rainoir as one of the heroes that saved Chikyuu 2000years ago

Debonica calls Rainoir "my king" and Rainoir invites Gira to tell him about the truth of Chikyuu's history as the new generation of Shugddom King

Yanma says "interesting" but the gate closed before he and Rita can enter

Rita: 帰るか Yanma: はやい?!

Rita: Are we leaving. Yanma: Too soon!

Gira meets Rainoir

Debonica was sent to monitor Gira but Gira still thinks of her as an older sister and makes fun of it. [Trailer line give up throne] → cut to wings scene 1

Debonica pinched Gira's cheeks and urged him to just go along like a good kid. Gira hesitates and thought Debonica was just being playful. Debonica said the moment he hesitates, he has lost the right ro be king. But it's alright because Rainoir will take over.

Rainoir explained he understood Gira is a kind person, then showed Gira a vision of people dying to persuade him into handing over the throne

Gira is still not sure because he barely had time to consider. Debonica said it's enough, sang again and a sand glass thing flipped around and they landed on the platform shown in trailer's final fight

Rainoir raised his sword on Debonica and Gira ran to block it out of reflex to his own bewilderment.

Rainoir explained since he's only a spirit so he needs Debonica's "existence" to revive in the physical realm. Gira challenged if that means Debonica will die but she disagreed angrily and insisted that it's fine because it is her destiny

Gira hesitates but took Debonica's hand and runs away

Rainoir commented there's no where to go. The Realm of Death is (a living forest?) → cut to Himeno in a forest

Wings scene

<- Debonica asks Gira to give up the throne

--part 1--

Bkg: underwater N'kosopa

Rita runs with both arms raised straight in the air. [trailer line: want to leave but no exit]

Yanma in foreground studying electronics. [Trailer line about creating a breaking point/picking a lock]

Yanma asks Rita to hand him a cable. Rita asks which one. Close up shot of Rita turning their head side to side in search

Cut to wide shot as each way Rita turns, they find themself in a new colour of a broken Saiban Court. x3 times

many many black skeletons fly towards rita, trailer shot of rita scream → cut to Gira's everyone dead vision

--part 2--

<- follows Kaguragi part 1

(Yanma and Rita are both physically in the underwater N'kosopa space but only Rita can see/hear/enter the vision of Dead Gokkan)

Rita misao pose + cover ears + heavy breathing. Yanma pulls them out of the vision by their back collar.

Rita falls back and lies on the ground facing up

Yanma: You saw something?

Rita: People I put on trial. The dead of Gokkan must hate me.

Yanma: Eh? The Chief Justice cold as ice is afraid of ghosts?

Rita: *catching their breath*

Yanma: Don't mind the things you can't see. Just take on what's in front of you now. How about that?

Rita: I, have a duty.

Yanma: Is that it? *smirk*

(cut to Rita turning towards a sky of flying screaming black skeletons) Rita: These are all, Moffun.

Yanma discovers the spider web Jeramie attached onto his waist before their departure (with a face of disgust)

-> Gira and Debonica scene

Himeno's farewell

Himeno walking in a normal forest and two jellyfish fly towards her. Her parents appear in royal attire and embrace her.

The three are framed inside an ishbana emblem petal.

Himeno: Papa, Mama, I've wanted to see you. 会えたかったよ

Papa: I am sorry (for making you wait that long). I can't let you go/ There is no way back. ごめんな　もう帰さない

environment shifts to dead forest → cut to Kaguragi

--part 2 with Sebastian--

← follow Kuroda scene

[trailer line: i came here to say goodbye.]

"Farewell without Sayonara is not beautiful." (note: sayonara means the never see each other again kind of goodbye)

Papa ghost asks Himeno to stay here forever

"My favourite things are still in Ishababna. The things I want are still plenty to come. I'll see you. bye bye." (またね is bye when you will see the person again.)

["mata ne. bye bye." is not scripted and improvised on set with director according to Erica. and the "too late" remark as well.]

Sebastian: you returned your parents' favour (恩 <- not sure how to translate it, the asian concept of that the parents' care for you is a blessing (and you should be grateful for it)) <- heard this wrong

edit post-release 6/12 : Sebastian simply said "I've come to [receive/greet] your return"

Sebastian brings her her sword and Himeno said it took him too long.

-> cut to ritamoru

Kaguragi

Toufu palace. Already burning unexplained. Iroki waits on the throne.

Iroki: Traitor. Good job stealing my country.

Kaguragi: Outono. It is you who took all the food, the life of Toufu, for yourself. It is you who betrayed the people.

Iroki: And you dirty your hands for this throne. What are you after?

Kaguragi: For the people! For my country!

*iroki evil laughs* (something about one day the same will happen to you) → cut to Wings part 2

--part 2 with Kuroda--

← follows Shiokara scene

The words are too fast for me but the meaning i get was Kaguragi reminiscing about what kind of (selfish) ruler Iroki was, but he is a man who is not afraid of dirtying his hands, that's how he earned the name of Toufu's Outono.

Kuroda does a backflip and kicks the image of Iroki into ember.

-> cut to Himeno & Sebastian

Gira and Debonica

Gira took Debonica somewhere safe and Debonica explained it was her destiny to become a vessel for Rainoir as she turns 20. That's why she never showed up at the birthday party.

Gira refused to accept and asked her to return with him

Debonica hit him and repeated that this is for the best of everyone, that this is what she wished.

The two started tickling each other. Gira said something about the cake that made her hesitate and Gira said thank you

Rainoir followed them here and asked if Debonica has made up her mind. She said yes.

→ cut to Aides scene

Aides - Shiokara

Yanma connects a cable with the spider web and succeeded in making a video call to the living world. He asks Shiokara, who had the lie detector on, to tell a big lie right now

Shiokara returns a "Now?" then do it immediately.

The lie so big that killed him is "Yanma-kun is the strongest at brawls" 喧嘩最強　ヤンマくん!

Shiokara shut the door on arrival. "DON'T!!! THAT WAS OUR WAY OUT OF HERE SUKAPON TANUKI!" "SORRY!"

the other three aides evasdrop classic three heads behind a wall style

Aides - Kuroda

Aides - Sebastian

Aides - Morfonia

Rita & Morfonia

<- follows Himeno & Sebastian

Rita heavy breathing. center close-up. hair blown by strong wind. hand cover ears. mask half down so you can see their nose and upper lip [movie still]

Morfonia: "Ritaaa~ listen closely." (ちゃんと聞いて)

Rita gasps. profile facing right took up half the screen. a small black ghost fly towards them and whispered. "Thank you, Chief Justice." ありがとう　裁判長　(you can glimpse at the blue eye through the messed up hair).

Rita relaxes stop gasping and froze.

Morfonia pulls them up by both of their wrists with a gyaaaa

Morfoina: Seems like among the dead, you are quite popular 😊

Rita nervously pulls their bangs down to cover the blue eye

-> Rainoir & Gira

Rainoir & Gira

Rainoir: Sacrificing one person can save the whole of humanity. Will you rob them of their bright future? a chance of having a family?

Gira: Is that what it was like in your time. Living in this world is hell. Future. Happiness. Those that have those set for them are only strong people like you. In this unsensible world, it's full of sadness and hurt and the unfortunate. The one that made our world like this, is the first king like you. If you think anyone can be easily sacrificed, than watch me destroy 2000 years of history. [trailer line]

Rainoir said bad guy things and "yabbari the king of chikyuu has to be me". the two fight and Debonica tries to make them stop.

Gira promises to bring Debonica back to the living world and make her another cake. She questions why for such a small thing. Gira says it's not small. In a world just like hell, it is the small happiness that gave us hope to live on. "To protect such small happiness, that is the king I will become."

Gira closes and opens his eyes again and jesus light falls onto him

Gira's hair falls down on his left (our right) and he looks SO EVILISH GOOD.

↑ basically that 'raise sword + mantle falls + rule the world speech' in tv but without mantle

the two men fight and Gira asks Debonica to choose who the Crown should go to.

the two transfroms. Rairnoir's transformation is all the ash bugs accumulate on him and he has a monster form like a gladiator.

INFERNO (movie ver.) plays

Debonica throws the crown towards Gira. "I want to live! My king is Gira!"

The others arrive and Gira & co. all say one signature line

Jeramie arrives following spider web on Yanma

Final fight

it's cool trust me.

Kaguragi butt-butting the enemy again

himerita team has three shots

blue white slash from right to left and rita shoots arrow from the opposite side

no mecha fight

soundtrack v1t1 + t24 (waking the king instrumental)

Rainoiru: That path of yours, can you save the people?

Gira: I promise, as the King to a new legacy.

Epilogue

Jeramie narrates in an empty Shugoddom throne room (kinda like ep20 end) as Coronation goes again

Orphans here. Kogane crying

trailer shots of Gira sitting on the throne

Gokkan's throne is there too and Morfonia makes Rita fake-clap by holding their hands

moments of silence when Douga puts the crown on Gira and just after he sits on the throne.

closing words from Jeramie: no one knows what will happen next. even then, he can only go forward in the path of king (王道) he chose.

no op/ed. cast & crew credits played during opening coronation scene.

Debonica eating the cake she deemed too sweet before and says shiawase.

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Preview for Intertwined, Chapter 17

Laudna feels like a lizard warming its blood on top of a rock, unphased by the oppressive heat. She stretches her legs out from under the shade of their improvised cover, the pallid grey of her skin further bleached by the black sands beneath.

She turns to her side to check on Imogen, fanning Laudna’s open notebook at her face with her eyes closed, muscles in her forearm flexing, hairs holding droplets of sweat like dewdrops on grass, deep freckled tan soaking sun-ray dye to a peeling red

“Your skin…”

Imogen halts, eyes opening to study her exposed forearms. She closes the notebook without ever reading the page, sets it down between them.

“Here, this is one I can share-” she declares, her drawl coloured eager.

She twists around to her rucksack, rummages through its contents briefly before unearthing a parcel with hemp string tied around a dampened cloth wrapping.

“I take a couple whenever I see ‘em, it’s hard to cover up in the heat, and long days on the fields ain’t the kindest to your skin-”

She undoes the parcel to reveal two thick leaves of aloe.

“Y’can either break a bit straight off if you've got a plant, this sorta gunk that comes out is what y’all wanna use like a moisturiser-“

She snaps a segment off from the widest part of the leaf to demonstrate, clear saliva-like substance oozing out from between the outer succulent flesh and the gelatinous centre.

“-but when y’all got quite a bit to cover I tend’ta peel off the outer green skin sorta bit and just rub it wherever I need to. It’s real refreshin’.”

Imogen takes her dagger from out of its holster and carves a clean dissecting line down the side of the leaf, peels its skin back and away in a manner familiar to flaying a fish. She presents the catch with skin held back in her out held palm

“See? Wanna touch it?”

Laudna grins enthusiastically, mentally taking notes on how to further accommodate for Imogen in the future. She nods and gently pushes the pad of her index finger onto the innards that feel like mucus-covered jelly. She supposes it must feel nice, hydrating and certainly accentuating a breeze if there were to be one, if her skin wasn’t - well, what it is. She pulls her finger away with a scrutinising tilt and crane to her head as she observes how a line of connective-tissue-gel creates a bridge between the fingertip and the leaf-innards.

bares resemblance to a sentence she has read once or twice before, to a time before transfusion.

“It looks a little vulgar.”              

Imogen’s skin manages to bloom a deeper beetroot red than what the sunburn already offered.

“wh-, Laud-  gods. I wasn’t tryna be obscene-” Imogen stutters and retracts the aloe segment in her hand, splitting the tether between it and Laudna, her movements suddenly flighty. Laudna feels a rush from influencing such manners.  

“Nothing obscene Imogen, it’s perfectly natural.” She does her best to remain stoic in delivery, though she finds the current display of behaviour both hilarious and adorable.

“I know it’s natural - it’s leaf gunk!” Laudna watches as Imogen looks to either side of herself as if scanning for a space she can retreat to - but they are surrounded by nothing except for exposed, flat, sweltering, and empty onyx desert.

“I’m not judging you for what you cover your skin with, I’m sure it is full of vitamins.”

“Stop talkin’ like that-”

“Like what?” Laudna feigns innocence

Imogen drags both of her hands over her face in flustered frustration

“like-”

“You’ve got some on your nose.”

Imogen grumbles as her skin invents a new, deeper shade of red - it sews quite the feeling of accomplishment, a high already terribly addictive.

She scowls, arms crossing and looking out across the flat landscape.

“I know you’re tryna wind me up.”

“You have quite the advantage there, but I don’t regret trying.”

“yeah, well, you succeeded.”

(you can read the previous chapters here)

[eddysocs]

A Heavy Load, Indeed — Jack Sparrow x OC

Summary: Lacey Price finds Captain Jack Sparrow in a less than dignified state and takes it upon herself to get him back to the Black Pearl. What follows is a test of patience, wit, and just how much trouble one pirate can be.

Word Count: 1,049

Tags: Drunkenness, Caretaking, Banter, Fluff and Humor

Lacey Price had seen Jack Sparrow in all states of disarray, bruised, battered, half drowned, and even once, she swore, half dead. But this? This was a different level of disaster entirely.

She found him slumped against a crumbling stone wall in the back alleys of some nameless port, his tricorn hat hanging precariously over one eye, boots caked in sand and mud. His once immaculate coat sagged around his shoulders like a forgotten relic, and in his right hand, he clutched the last drops of what had clearly been a very full bottle of rum not too long ago.

Lacey folded her arms, looking down at him with exasperation. "How did you end up like this?"

Jack raised his head and blinked blearily at her, then grinned that lopsided, all too charming grin, hoping it would smooth things over. He lifted the bottle and waggled it in her direction.

"How d'you think?"

Lacey huffed. "You're a damn mess, Sparrow."

Jack made a vague attempt at sitting up straighter, but the moment he shifted, he lost his balance and tipped sideways. Lacey caught him before he could hit the ground, grumbling under her breath as she wrestled him upright.

"Alright, that's enough of that. We're going back to the ship before you get yourself robbed. Or worse."

Jack groaned. "Lacey, my sweet, let's not be hasty." His further attempt at charm did not do him any favors in this state, it seemed, but it hadn’t hurt to try.

"Oh, we're being hasty, alright." She hooked her arms under his and, with great effort, pulled him to his feet. He sagged against her immediately, his breath reeking of alcohol and salt.

"Y'know, I think the world's a much more interesting place from this angle," he murmured, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"You mean the angle where you're about to pass out and force me to drag your sorry arse across half the port?"

"Mm. Thass the one," he slurred, followed by a hiccup.

The walk, or rather, the struggle, back to the Black Pearl was nothing short of a battle. Jack was about as useful as a sack of rum soaked potatoes, and every few steps, he nearly tripped over his own feet, forcing Lacey to tighten her grip around his waist to keep him upright. She’d likely feel her muscles screaming at her come morning.

"You could at least pretend to help," she grunted as she hauled him forward.

"I am helping," Jack insisted. "By not fighting you. S'not easy, y'know. I could be making," he paused to hiccup again, "a scene."

"Oh, believe me, you're making a scene without trying," Lacey shot back as a group of dock workers snickered at the sight of her half dragging the very drunk pirate captain back to his own ship.

When they finally reached the ship, Lacey was sweating from exertion, and Jack, utterly oblivious, was humming some off key shanty under his breath. She all but shoved him up the gangplank, and as soon as his boots hit the deck, he sagged against her again.

"Almost there, Sparrow," she muttered, steering him toward his cabin.

"Y'know, you'd make a fine first mate," Jack mumbled as he staggered inside.

"You just want someone to carry you home every time you drink yourself stupid," Lacey shot back.

"Ah, but you do it so well," he said, flashing her a grin before flopping onto his cot with all the grace of a felled tree.

Lacey rolled her eyes, grabbed a blanket, and tossed it over him. "Sleep it off. You're no good to anyone like this."

Jack cracked one eye open. "No good to you, love?"

She scoffed. "You're barely good to yourself right now."

His smirk lingered for only a moment before exhaustion finally won, and he passed out. Lacey sighed, shaking her head before making her way back to her own quarters, already dreading the headache he'd be in the morning.

And how right she’d been. When the sun rose, Jack Sparrow, for all his bravado, was completely and utterly wrecked.

Lacey found him sprawled out in his cabin, groaning into his pillow as though the very act of existing was unbearable. She smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe.

"Good morning, Captain."

Jack let out a pained sound, barely lifting his head. "Lacey, love, not so loud."

She let out a guffaw. "Oh no, I think I'll speak as loud as I like, considering I had to haul your sorry arse back aboard last night."

Jack slowly rolled onto his back, squinting at her. "Aye, that sounds vaguely familiar."

"You owe me," she said pointedly, tossing a flask of water onto his chest.

Jack grunted at the impact but grabbed the flask, taking a careful sip before making a face. "This isn't rum."

"No, it's not, because you nearly drowned yourself in rum last night," Lacey said. "You're drinking water until you resemble a functioning human being again."

Jack groaned dramatically, draping an arm over his face. "Cruel woman."

Lacey smirked. "Oh, I'm very cruel. So cruel, in fact, that I might let the crew in here to witness the mighty Captain Jack Sparrow suffering like a landlubber after his first night at port."

Jack peeked out from under his arm, eyes narrowing. "You wouldn't dare."

Lacey grinned wickedly and reached for the door handle.

Jack shot up, too fast. He groaned and clutched his head as if it might split open, while Lacey bit back a laugh.

"You alright there, Captain," she teased.

Jack sighed, flopping back onto the cot. "Aye. Lesson learned."

Lacey arched a brow. "Oh? And what lesson is that?"

Jack cracked a tired smile. "Next time, I'll make sure you're drinkin' with me so you can't complain afterward."

Lacey laughed. "Not a chance, Sparrow. Someone has to be responsible around here."

Jack sighed dramatically. "Pity. We'd make quite the pair, you and I."

Lacey shook her head, amused, as she headed for the door. "Get some rest, Jack. And drink the damn water."

As she left, she heard Jack muttering under his breath, something about "a woman more fearsome than the sea itself."

And if Lacey smiled to herself as she walked away, well, that was nobody's business but her own.

Written for @feveruary

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @immyowndefender

Lacey Price: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @iticaboopsyou

[novantinuum]

you can’t choose what stays and what fades away OR Reunited Alt POV fic? (I am eyeing doing that tag myself except. *glances at WIP folder*)

I am wiggling about my SU wips most of all, so I’mma selecting Reunited Alt POV fic (which LMAFO I need to come up with a banger of a title for so desperately, this one is like 2/3rds done so. Yeah.

This is a simple one to explain, it’s just the battle in Reunited but from Connie’s POV- thus, it covers everything that happens while Steven gets knocked into unconscious psychic ghost zone. Or, at least, my take on what happens. But uh… yeah. Watching your friend get absolutely trampled underfoot is inherently traumatizing, and I don’t think we as a fandom talk enough about this moment and how it might’ve impacted specifically Connie. Also I genuinely honest to god think Steven was seriously hurt from this- and that some of the fractures in his bones we see in SUF were from this strike- and that the reason he took so long to come to in “psychic ghost zone” even was that all his body’s energy was being routed towards Intense self healing. So keep that in mind re: snippit below:

_

Garnet keeps a watchful eye for any incoming projectiles as Connie skids to a screeching halt next to her friend’s comatose body lying limp in the sand. Okay. Okay. Here he is. Now all she’s gotta do is… carry him to a safe distance. Steeling her core in preparation, she squats down and tries to leverage herself to scoop him right up. Her legs, though… in the midst of her terror, her legs are simply too wobbly to bear his mass, and after one valiant but failed attempt she’s scared she’ll hurt herself (or him!) trying again. Which means… she’ll just have to drag him.

“Sorry—!” she says with a faint hiss of regret as she grasps both of his arms by the wrist and starts to pull him across the battle-swept sands. Sure enough to her suspicions, one of his shoulders definitely doesn’t feel like it’s aligned in its socket right, and she worries that yanking him along like this will only serve to further exacerbate it. Still, what other choice does she have? 

What choices do any of them have, all tangled up within the fallout of this thousand year war?

Ever-diligent in her role as lookout, Garnet circles around a few more times as Connie drags Steven off the battlefield, towards what remains of his house. She’s grateful for her help. Truly so. It allows her to focus her energy on protecting her best friend instead of constantly having to keep an eye out for stray attacks from the Diamonds. And boy, oh boy— she digs her heels into the sand, spent muscles all but screaming for her to rest, to drop her load and continue on alone— will her body need every last drop of energy she’s got. That’s why relief surges through her heart with all the ferocity of a tidal wave when Mr. Universe’s frantic voice comes into range once again. Because it means she’s here. She’s succeeded. She’s pulled him all the way to the base of the stairs, out of the way.

The exhaustion hits immediately. Huffing for a lungful of air, she drops the half-Gem’s arms to the ground and collapses to her knees. For an extended moment, the unwanted melody of warfare rings through her ears like canon fire. She can’t move. She can barely even breathe. She swears her friend’s dad is trying to say something to her— can feel his hesitant touch brushing against her shoulder in what barely counts as a whisper— but she can’t even manage to distinguish a single word. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, every last sensory input overloaded. It’s all too loud. It’s all too damn heavy. It’s all too—

“Connie,” Garnet pushes through the static with astute authority. 

She snaps her head up, her eyes flitting between the Crystal Gem leader (currently kneeling at her side) and a still panicking Mr. Universe (clutching his unconscious son’s hand). Her breath settles, slowly but surely. Her fingers twitch, tracing shallow patterns in the sand. The ringing lessens.

“Thank you,” she continues, pushing herself back to her full height. The long skirt of her wedding outfit flares behind her as she glances back towards the chaos of the battle. “For protecting him where I couldn’t. Now, keep watch. If they poof all of us, promise me you’ll evacuate the beach.”

“I-I… of course,” Connie says, her gaze still wet with terror and barely contained grief. “But y-you… you don’t really think you’ll—?”

Lose, is the word she can’t bring herself to say. Surely you don’t think you’ll lose?

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

Beach Day

YGO Rare Pair Week Day 5

Prompt: Beach

Pairing: Rio Kamishiro/III Arclight

Word Count: 766

Summary: Rio and Michael (III) Arclight spend a day on the beach together.

“Ready, Michael?” Rio tossed the volleyball up and down, a prideful smirk on her face.

Michael forced a smile as his arms trembled. He was struggling to hold them in the right position to eventually bump the ball the way Rio had taught him to.

“R-ready!” Michael insisted, sweat forming across his forehead, a mix of nerves and the heat from the blazing summer sun just overhead.

Rio smirked even harder. She bent her knees and lifted the volleyball up with one hand, holding that position before jumping up and tossing the ball straight up. Her other hand swung immediately, sending the volleyball flying over the net.

Michael’s feet stumbled under him as he stepped back. The ball made contact with his arms, making him instinctively fling his arms up over his head. It flew over him and slid through the sand behind him. Michael facepalmed.

“Can I… try that again?” His voice was barely more than an embarrassed mutter as he went to pick up the ball.

“Sure. Your serve,” Rio answered, holding her arms in that same bump position that Michael had them in.

Michael took steps backward to the spot he was supposed to serve from and placed the ball in one hand. He tossed the ball up. As quick as he could, he slapped at the volleyball with his other hand, yelping when scalding hot sand was almost immediately flung into his face.

Spitting out the sand in his mouth, Michael tried to shake his head clear. The heat from both the sun and his own nerves were making it hard to think clearly, let alone do anything physical like this.

Rio meanwhile was chuckling into her hand. “You okay, Mikey?”

“Yeah…” Michael was still blazing with embarrassment and annoyance as he retrieved the ball and got to his feet again.

Rio’s laugh was cute, which was as nice as it was a detriment. The last thing Michael wanted was for his cute new girlfriend to be laughing at his own foolishness.

Michael's next attempt at serving didn’t hit the ground. However, hitting the bottom of the net and having to jump out of the way to not get hit in the face wasn’t much better.

Michael gave it a few more unsuccessful tries before Rio finally cut in,

“Okay, okay…” The girl could barely speak through her giggles. “I can tell volleyball isn’t your thing. Do you wanna do something else?”

Michael couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as he dropped the ball on the ground. “Yes, please.”

“Alright!” Rio ducked under the net as she charged at Michael, taking his hand in both her hands. “Swimming it is! Let’s go!”

Michael could barely utter a startled gasp before Rio dragged him into the shallow water. The instant temperature drop along with the submerged damp sand beneath Michael's feet caught him off guard and made him lose his footing completely, his face flopping into the water. With one yank, Rio pulled him back up.

“Thanks…” Michael slipped his hand free with a chuckle. Now that he was used to how cold the water was, he couldn’t help but relax into it.

Rio giggled again. “You're lucky you’re cute, ya know.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you woulda dumped me by now if I wasn’t,” Michael cut in jokingly.

Rio rolled her eyes and shoved Michael. He stumbled back but managed to keep his footing this time.

“I am not dumping you over beach volleyball, you goon.” Rio stuck her tongue out teasingly.

Without another word, she propelled herself off the sand to dolphin-dive further into the water. Michael chuckled and walked after her. Then began to wade and eventually tread water when it got too deep to stand in. Rio resurfaced, shaking her head a bit. The motion got a bit of water in Michael's face.

“Rude.” Michael’s tone was a touch sarcastic as he intentionally splashed Rio back.

“Wha-!” Rio spat out the salt water that got in her mouth, and the almost deadly look on her face when she recovered made Michael flinch back.

“W-wait!”

It was too late. Rio was already flinging her arms to splash huge waves into Michael’s face. He blindly tried to do the same to splash at Rio. However, given the incessant giggling coming from the girl, Michael doubted he was doing all that good of a job.

“Okay! Okay!” Michael closed his eyes and held his hands up in surrender. “You win! I surrender!”

The splashing finally ceased, though unfortunately, Rio’s giggling did not.

Michael let out a small sigh. “You're lucky you’re cute.”

[wintercarnage]

☥  ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 boiling point.　⠀l. laufeyson & m. mobius . . .

( ♱ ) … Frost Giants and the desert don’t mix well.

777 。。masterlist

Curls of dry desert heat sink into Loki’s skin as she walks across planes of sand. That’s all there is for miles—rough, pale sand.

“This is meant to be an apocalypse?” Loki says with a scowl. “There’s nothing but sand!”

“Patience, Loki,” Mobius chimes in. Loki turns around to glare at him. The look goes woefully unnoticed as Mobius taps away on his TemPad. It’s not often they go out alone, namely because Mobius’ status as an analyst doesn’t allow for it, but this was a lead Mobius felt didn’t warrant a team.

“What are we going to find out here? More sand? Norns above, there’s nothing else to see!” Loki crosses her arms petulantly, trying to ignore the pulsing ache starting up around her nose and eyes.

A little lizard scurries by, legs paddling in the sand. It perches itself up on a rock, which is perhaps the only other thing this place has to offer.

“See?” Mobius says. He looks up at Loki with a soft grin. “There’s other things than sand.”

Loki turns away with a scowl. Her legs have started to tremble. She swallows thickly, switching her weight to one side in an effort to shake her legs out one at a time. It only worsens, and her knees buckle, dropping her into a crouch with a pained whimper.

“You alright?” Mobius calls. He’s wandered away, towards the rock the infernal lizard has perched itself upon. It strikes a memory of Asgard, the long hours after noon, the peak heat of the day, where Loki would stretch out in her mother’s gardens, sunning herself like that little lizard. The mild temperatures of Asgard allowed for such a thing, warming her blood.

Here, there is nothing but the oppressive heat.

Loki swallows. “Fine.”

Mobius looks at her oddly, a quick little pinch of his mouth and a flick of the eyes over Loki. He doesn’t comment though, and reaches out to drag a finger down the lizard’s back. He must realize that they’re not going to find anything in a bare desert at the end of the world.

Loki watches, silent, as her eyes ache with the heat, until she can’t stand to keep them open anymore. She tucks her head to her knees, overly aware of the trembling of her heart as it lurches through its beats in her chest.

“...oki? You alright, honey?” Mobius’ hand, gentle, on her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” Loki forces out, past the crackling of her tongue. “Just…can we go back now?”

Mobius opens a time door, and Loki manages to stumble onto her feet long enough to get through. No matter that she collapses again on the other side, knees digging into the carpet of Mobius’ living room floor.

Mobius’ hands brush Loki’s neck. It takes her a second to realize that Mobius is pulling her hair back into a ponytail. A trembling laugh pushes through Loki’s lips. She feels Mobius secure the hair with the tie he always wears around his wrist. It never occurred to her before that he wore it in case she needed it.

“I’ll get you some water,” Mobius says. “Lay down. Take it easy for a second.”

Loki, shivering with laces of hot pain going up and down her body, can do nothing but comply. She settles onto her side on the floor, facing the walkway to the kitchen. She watches Mobius pause to turn the thermostat down with a few clicks. A weak smile graces her lips. Ever-perceptive Mobius. He’s attuned to Loki, the one person Loki could never perceive.

Loki closes her eyes and tries to ignore the spinning of her head.

“You’re burning up, Lokes,” Mobius murmurs. Loki prises her eyes open exhaustedly. When had Mobius returned? He presses the back of his hand to her forehead. “We have to get your temperature down.”

Loki moans in pain. Mobius makes her sit up—more gentle coaxing than force—and instructs her to take slow sips of the ice water he hands her.

“I’ll run you a cool bath,” Mobius says. Loki is too exhausted to even blink in response.

Hours, minutes, mere seconds—time passes before Loki is being lifted into a bridal carry headed towards the bathroom. She clutches weakly at Mobius’ shirt, head lolling against his chest.

Loki sits, half-lucid, on the closed toilet while Mobius carefully pulls her clothes off. He runs soothing hands over each new bit of skin revealed. His hands are icy, something Loki imagines couldn’t have felt very good for him to do. He doesn’t say anything, though, as he helps Loki stand so he can pull off her pants and underwear.

Loki lets out a breathless giggle. Mobius‘ pale skin is a shocking difference to her blue. She wonders what color skin their kids would have, if it would be some odd, in-between mix.

She wonders if Mobius would ever want to do that, have kids. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to kiss her. Loki’s brow creases in distress as Mobius helps her into the tub.

All her thoughts dissolve as she sinks into the water. A soft sigh of relief escapes her lips. Realistically, the water can’t be any colder than room temperature. It feels good anyways, fighting off the spiky heat in her body. She sinks down further, submerging herself from toes to neck. Bless the TVA and their large tubs.

”Better?” Mobius asks. He sits on the closed toilet. Loki smiles at him, sweet with a tinge of pain.

”better,” Loki murmurs back.Maybe it doesn’t matter so much, whether or not Mobius wants to kiss her. He wants to help her, take care of her, and that’s enough.

For now, that’s more than enough.

[inkspiders]

Gorgeous artwork is by Sailesh Thakrar

In The Mermaid’s Gift, an old family story about a mermaid encounter brings romance and drama.

♡

“My grandfather, Josiah Young…” he began, coughing as he always did. I once heard Grandmother say to Mum that she always knew the old boy was lying when he coughed, but I didn’t believe that. “…once saw a mermaid.”

The Mermaid’s Gift was my third story with The People’s Friend. It was also my first appearance in the weekly magazine rather than the monthly specials. It was released June 18th, 2016. The setting was 1840s Great Yarmouth.

🎣

“Josiah hadn’t been a fisherman, like my father, myself and your fathers were. He had been a rippier, one of the men who took the net’s catch and sold it further inland. In fact, Josiah was afeared of water, yet he loved to walk the beach each day’s end to see the fall of the sun. That was where he saw it.”

Grandfather blew away the smoke cloud and we realised his eyes were shut. After a few minutes, we thought he’d fallen asleep. We all called for him to continue, asking what Josiah had seen.

His bushy eyebrow lifted as he opened a single eye.

“Why, the mermaid of course! I can’t be telling you everything. As the sky darkened to the colour of fire, he noticed a thousand sparkles, like light upon the water, but this was nowhere near the sea. It was back by the rocks, just barely peeking out. Josiah followed and there was the merwoman. The poor creature was trapped, with only a puddle of water to sustain her. She’d come in the hightide and got her tail caught.”

In The Mermaid’s Gift, it’s this story which triggers the plot. A man helps a trapped mermaid and receives something in return. A carved stone that can seek out the holder’s true love.

Net weaver Hetty has now inherited the stone, but when it leads her to fisherman Seb, can she really rely on good luck charms once doubts arise?

The People’s Friend publishes feel good fiction and prefers grounded, non-magical stories, but historical writers don’t always have to keep to a rigid realism vs fantasy theme. The past is a different world. Our ancestors believed in plenty of things we dismiss nowadays.

A macabre creature could turn out to be a shadow, ghostly encounters the work of a fraudulent medium, or a mermaid sighting dismissed as the tall tale of an old fisherman.

Even with a folkloric element, the main focus in this story was on the characters’ relationships, particularly Hetty and her reluctance to wed after her younger sister’s disastrous marriage.

💔

Seb unhooked our arms and lowered himself on one knee. The ring, which was as thin as a fishing lure and had a pearl in the centre, was held up.

My hand stretched out to touch it, to feel that it was real, but I paused. This wasn’t just a story my grandfather had told me. This was marriage, and fairy tales and magic stones could not hold it together.

Norfolk’s Mermaids

Legends about mermaids have intrigued people across the world, but why? Is it because of their close resemblance to humans, with most depictions showing them as beautiful women with fishy features, or do they speak to something deep inside us, something which yearns to explore the sea and discover the strange, wonderful things hiding within its dark depths? 

Many of Norfolk’s villages and towns are on the coast, so it’s no surprise there’ve been plenty of mermaid encounters throughout the years. Mermaid Sand, near Snettisham, was apparently named after a dark-haired mermaid who would pluck off her tail and walk amongst humans in search of love. 

However, Norfolk’s most popular mer myth is of the Sheringham mermaid. This strange visitor has been immortalised with a wood carving on one of the pews in All Saints church. The legend goes that the mermaid was drawn by the congregation’s singing, but being unable to transform into a human, she was forced to drag herself along the beach and sneak in at the back.

Explanations vary as to why mermaid stories are so prevalent, with the main one being drunken, feverish fishermen desperate for female company. Freakshows would also capitalise on the interest. Eager to get the crowds in, they stitched animals together to create a gruesome chimera, such as the Fiji mermaid in America, which was a mummified monkey and fish. Manatees, also known as sea cows, were also blamed for mermaid sightings. These chunky creatures were thought to look like women in the distance, by those drunken sailors from earlier, although, to me, they look more like pebbles with a tail 😊

No matter the truth, for centuries humans have had a complicated relationship with the sea. It is a world we will never be able to fully explore. In the past, it was even more secretive and dangerous. Perhaps mermaids were a personification of those violent waves that, while beautiful, took so many fishermen away from their families.

Sequels & Where to Read

Being able to include mermaids, even just as a tall tale, was fun. The Mermaid’s Gift also got a sequel. For Those in Peril was published three years later by The People’s Friend. This time it followed Seb and examined superstitions in the fishing community.

Both stories have since been re-released under their original submission titles, The Sea Stone and The Lucky Net, in my anthology collection The Wherryman’s Daughter.

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! i use tumblr on safari - so i’m unable to answer any messages - but i would like to put in a request for conrad fisher x fem! reader smut!

if your comfortable, could you do a imagine with an innocent/virgin reader that is constantly flustered by conrad?

thank you so much!! <<33

champagne & sunshine - c.f**

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i get so nervous posting smut (for literally no reason😭), but i still hope you enjoy this 🩶 warning for smut.

the bonfires were always a good time, usually. once you grow up, the hype of them dies down a bit. belly begged y/n to come, being her older sister figure. it was y/n’s birthday, so belly convinced her that it would be fun. besides, y/n’s mom had been letting her drink today, as long as she was home and with close people. y/n figured she’d leave it at that, not bothering to take anything at the party.

she threw one of the cans in the bag at the corner of the beach, avoiding the full boxes of hard seltzer as her eye landed on conrad and jeremiah entering the beach. luckily, the fire wasn’t bright enough to illuminate her bright red cheeks. she walked away from the drinks, turning away from conrad but also trying to make herself seem noticeable.

she’d grown up with the conklins and fishers next door, but she always had the biggest crush on conrad. every single time he walked in, her heart raced and almost everyone knew it. belly always teased her, someone noticing before she even knew she liked him.

conrad had always had his eyes on y/n. conrad, y/n, and steven had been the oldest, so it was usually him and her together. she acted like she barely knew him, when he probably knew her better than anyone else. now that they were both eighteen, legal adults, they could do pretty much whatever they pleased. somehow, y/n still found herself blushing like a little girl. conrad was one of the first to show her any attention. boys never cared about her at home, and he always made her feel wanted. she was always a shadow to her friends, who had guys clinging to them. she sat around with other people talking about sex and other stuff that y/n pretended to know about. it made her a little bit embarrassed, but who really cares? her whole friend group would laugh at her humorously if they found out she was a virgin, but again, who cares, right?

it wasn’t until she was sitting on the warm sand, feeling it in her hands as she slid them across the floor, that conrad sat next to her on the beach. the music was blaring, so y/n brought herself away to just observe people for a little bit. someone must’ve had the same idea if they tread all the way over to sit with her.

“you got dragged here, too?” conrad asks first.

“belly, jeremiah for you, i assume?”

“the one and only,” conrad laughs, as he kicks away an empty bottle. “you’re not drinking anything?”

“nah, i don’t really feel like it tonight. i’d rather just enjoy my birthday sober, unlike everyone else,” she tells him, pointing to the stumbling people surrounding the fire.

“you’re not the only one,” conrad says. “so it’s just us, huh?”

“y-yeah,” y/n stutters. “i mean, i didn’t even bother getting all dressed up for this shit.”

“i think you look beautiful either way,” he says, and when y/n looks up, his eyes are softly on hers, refusing to crack the shell between them. y/n pauses, looking at conrad dumbfounded. she never has boys call her beautiful, let alone the one she’s been hopelessly in love with for years. but, they always say love hits you when you least expect it. y/n thought that was a lie, but she really believed it for now.

“you too, connie,” she spits out, not bothering to change the adjective for him because everyone is beautiful. he adjusts himself to sit closer to y/n, trying to relieve some of the tension. his eyes can’t help but wander across her body, taking in every part of her that’s breathtaking to him. and the cropped tank top and shorts that she’s wearing isn’t fucking helping his case either. she’d be lying if she wasn’t checking him out, too. his sharp jawline, his hands, his radiant eyes, his lips could never be missed by y/n. someone this pretty deserves to be looked at, they both think without speaking.

“do you wanna head out? come to my place for a bit?” conrad asks, standing up and holding his hand out as she nods up at him, anticipating a night alone.

before y/n can even begin to think straight, their lips are crashed together in his car. she’s leaning over the cup holders in the center, and her hands are against his face. his hands are placed on her hips as he can’t help but steer his mind away from his tongue in her mouth. he never in a million years thought he’d see this side of her, and she never thought she’d see it in herself. she’s kissed guys before, but never this intimately. conrad pulls away, smiling against her lips before connecting them again. every single time this happens, y/n swears her heart skips a beat in the best way possible. like their lips set off fireworks in the car. they decided to leave the vehicle, climbing up the stairs, trying not to disturb the moms watching a movie. conrad places his hands on her thighs, lifting her up and placing y/n gently on his bed. he climbs up as well, letting her legs wrap around him as their kiss does nothing but intensify.

her hands roam all around his body, his waist, his shoulders, his neck. the only time they separate is for a breath of air, just until they can return again. conrad’s wander over her chest, placing one of his hands to squeeze her breasts.

“is this ok?” conrad waits for confirmation until he gets a yes. after, in response, y/n tugs off conrad’s shirt, discarding it to the floor somewhere in his room. her hands run down his back. “if you want to stop, tell me and we’ll stop the second you say it.”

“ok,” she peeps out. “but if this does go any further, i’ve never done any of… this, before.”

“we can stop, y/n, whenever you want.”

“no! no, i want to keep going. can we just, go slower, maybe?”

“anything you need,” conrad reassures her before moving down the waistband of her shorts. “can i take these off?”

“yes,” she tells him, clearly and assertively as he takes off the tank top, too, leaving her in just a gray bra on his bed.

“have you ever… ever been eaten out before?” he asks. she shakes her head no, slightly embarrassed so she puts her head down to cover it, but conrad sees right through it. “hey, look at me. you’re ok, i promise. can i keep going?”

“yeah, please,” she says, squirming in discomfort from her own arousal. the feeling is unfamiliar, wanting someone to touch her so bad as it’s at her fingertips. someone willing to love her is right in front of her. conrad begins to peel off y/n’s underwear, throwing it off the bed like his shirt, ending up somewhere on the floor. she pulls her legs apart, spreading them as conrad’s eyes fall deeper.

“god, y/n,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“conrad,” she begs, as he flattens himself down trying to ignore his own erection. he wants to pleasure her first, and knowing he’s the first one too might boost his ego a bit. but conrad would never admit that.

his face is an inch away from her pussy, beginning to kiss her inner thighs as she groans from the teasing. finally, his tongue makes contact with y/n’s slit, gathering up her arousal before swirling it around her clit. y/n’s head falls back onto the pillow again in pure pleasure, letting out a quiet moan for the first time. “oh, fuck yes,” she speaks out, making conrad try to contain a smile. he places his tongue on her clit again, moving his flat tongue up and down. he switches between those movements and wrapping his lips around it, sucking on her clit, causing her to fail at concealing her moans. y/n’s hand moves down to conrad’s hair, trying to ground herself on the bed from the ecstasy.

the second her climax starts rolling up onto her, her legs start shaking and that tells conrad that you’re close. “f-fuck, con- oh my god,” she pants out, trying to formulate words but failing. her orgasm creeps up and sends her over the edge, releasing a strong moan from her lips as she comes down from the high, his fingers are gently circling over her clit.

“that was, um, holy shit, that was amazing, conrad,” she smiles as he pulls himself back up to her.

“are you feeling alright?”

“better than ever,” she says, making conrad laugh as he moves over to his drawer. he pulls out the box of condoms before taking one out.

“do you wanna keep going?”

“yeah, i do.”

conrad moves back over, dropping his pants and rolling to condom on. y/n gazes at his length, wondering how she would be able to take it. with conrad here, she knew she would be ok, so they continued. he walks back over, pulling her legs apart and making eye contact with her again. “remember, we can always stop no matter what, ok? just say stop, and we can stop.” she nods and he leans in closer. he plants a sweet kiss on her lips before pulling away, it was her turn to smile against his lips.

once settled in between her legs, conrad begins to run his tip up her slit. he confirms that she’s doing alright and that she’s ready to keep going. after he’s aware, he slides his dick into her, making her nose scrunch and release a high moan.

“you ok?”

“yes,” she replies. “yeah, you can go faster.”

conrad speeds up his pace, thrusting himself into y/n. she didn’t feel outright pain, just discomfort. that discomfort soon turned into pleasure, causing her mouth to hang open. “you feel so good, y/n/n, god damn.”

y/n’s hand falls down to her clit, circling it until she starts to bring that now familiar feeling up. conrad continues to keep the same pace, not changing it to make her feel comfortable and in control, just as much as he is. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long,” he spits out, not thinking about his words. y/n heard him loud and clear, but she’s too distracted by her orgasm coming up.

“conrad i’m close,” she tells him.

“me too, baby,” he says, breathless. “come for me, y/n.”

her release leaves her with stars in her head, the feeling better than anything she’s ever experienced. she was always worrying about sex and what it might be like, but with conrad, he made it amazing for her. she knew he was the right guy. he brings himself down, leaning onto her as he releases himself into the condom. he pulls out of her, throwing away the condom and pulling his boxers back on. y/n grabs her underwear, as she stands up wobbly. her legs are weak from her two orgasms from conrad, making him chuckle in the corner.

“hey, um,” y/n starts. “thank you.”

“yeah, of course,” he stutters a bit, not sure of what to say but trying to still wrap his head around it. he means, he just had sex with the hottest girl in cousins, what is he supposed to say? “you know, i meant what i said. i’ve liked you so much, for a long time.”

she just stares at him, confirming that she’s not in some dream. “i’ve been in love with you since the day i first saw you on the beach,” conrad steps over to her. placing his hands back on her bare waist and kissing her passionately again. he pulls back again to sadly, break the kiss off.

“we should probably clean up a bit, before everyone comes back and yells at us for leaving,” he says, brushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear. she nods, beginning to pull the rest of her clothes on. thank god she left that party when she did, or she would still love conrad, but never say it.

[daisychainsandbowties]

shannon doing that thing where you paint on your partner and painting a night sky across the expanse of mary's back

she starts with touch, pushing the tips of her fingers under the hem of mary’s shirt, tipping their mouths together. kisses without hunger - lazy, leaning into the taste of her, the sugar-malt of s'mores.

shannon prodding the fire with a stick as mary assembled them, breaking chocolate with her hands, balancing the stick on her knees with a look on her face that made shannon think of architecture, of things that are built to last.

(this is not a category that includes people, or love)

passing it over with sticky fingers. staring as mary licked them clean, warm marshmallow drooling onto the inside of her thumb. putting it in her mouth with mary watching (and that will get to her sometimes; mary’s undivided attention).

it tasted of nothing like communion. there’s a trace of it now in her mouth, in the slow-falling dimness as the fire dies.

mary kisses her back, shivering as shannon drags her nails along mary’s abs. trying not to think of how we got here, where we’re going.

how mary built the fire, kneeling in the sand dressed in her basketball shorts and a borrowed hoodie. her insistence on the right way of doing things. no driftwood, despite its color, because of chlorine ions and dioxins.

and she’s right; shannon is already full of metal, staring in the dark at veins that feel flecked with luminous blue.

(they’re not. she’s just bones and blood and paint-streaked hands wrapped around metal. and its glow is celestial)

you could make paint from divinium, suspend it in compounds. you could put it onto skin, or work it underneath. sometimes, shannon dreams of walking towards mary. they’re on the surface of a black lake, or a mirror that reflects the sky. stars at their bare feet disappearing into ripples.

she dreams of walking. mary stands, waits, her face half-upturned. she’s beautiful, and the only thing for miles and miles.

her skin starts to glow, lines of light erupting, starting in her outstretched hands. lancing over knuckles and into the secrecy of her forearms, her chest.

like all dreams it has teeth and it draws blood and shannon never shows anyone the wounds.

so often she feels as though she’s casting a great dark shadow over everything. she doesn’t want mary to catch light, but set against the fire she is so much like a painting. there are views that make you want to look forever, and others that fill you with a wild longing to preserve, to capture. mary is both.

but shannon’s trying to teach herself to let go.

the hoodie - theirs, ours, other lines that have blurred between us - is laid out on the sand next to a blanket. shannon takes mary’s shirt off, pulling it over her head, feeling how she lifts her arms to let it happen. pliant, tilting forward so her bare skin touches the worn fabric of shannon’s tank top.

she wraps her arms around mary, hands seeking out the familiar plane of her spine. the firm muscle over her hips and her waist, where the contact drags a shaky breath out of her, exhaled onto shannon’s neck.

‘i love you.’ she traces her thumbs into the dip underneath mary’s ribs. all these spaces you never think about until they’re laid bare. it occurs to her that a person is a miracle especially when they give you everything.

the dark shine of mary’s skin in the firelight, and how her clavicle tastes of saltwater and sand.

she kisses mary before she can say i love you too, because she knows. gently, they turn together in the quiet broken by waves, by the faintest brush of wind over sand. mary lays down on the blanket and there’s a length of time that goes missing as shannon kisses along her spine. not counting vertebrae. no calculations, no measurements, nothing but her mouth and mary’s poorly-disguised sounds. the whine of pitched breath through an open mouth.

it starts with touch because it has to. this is how i know you. in the dark with my hands and in the light with everything, with my whole heart.

she maps it then, palms gliding over scapulae, finding the valley between them. up to the nape of her neck, stealing a kiss into the angle of her jaw and then down to her hips again. this is what love does, too. it makes a habit of you.

she learned to paint in the dark, hiding from her father in the closet upstairs and hoping he wouldn’t go looking for her.

it was important, then, to know her canvas with her hands, though it was only a sketchbook, a handful of paints stolen from the art classroom.

tracing her palms over the pages, the bleak little whispers of texture reaching up into her skin. uncapping her paints and dabbing little mountains of colour onto the back of her left hand.

painting with the right, always acrylics because watercolours felt like something that required light, air, breath. listening to her father moving around the house and painting a thing of dripping shadow perforated by light. love is a complicated thing, dappled the way the leaves pebble light down onto their dead, onto the forest floor. mountains with deserts on one side and rivers on the other.

she crouched in the closet with the doors admitting a slant of light. her back pressed against the wood, staring at the tear in the knee of her pajama bottoms, sometimes looping a finger inside to fray the fabric, to feel it open like a mouth.

there’s a scar in the uppermost corner of mary’s shoulder, where bea would tell her the acromion sits, steepling over the subacromial space. funny, how sacred places hide inside of us.

others all scattered across her, impossible to see in the firelight. but tangible under her fingers. a milky way written over skin. when shannon finds one she marks it in her mind and praises it with her mouth. she can tell the difference between knife wounds and the brush of a bullet; or where stray shrapnel hit at an angle and bounced away. this feels worthy of worship, for all that the air smells of seaweed and salt and woodsmoke. not incense or the blunt waxy scent of votive candles.

she sits back on her heels, uncaps the paints. they’re not oils or acrylics, because most are metal-based. because oils take forever to dry, and they don’t have that long.

the body-paint is alcohol-based, and that feels fitting, heady. mary sighs at the first cold stripe of color, presses her forehead down into her arms, hard. shannon stops.

‘are you okay?’

mary makes a sound and shannon feels suddenly like that tear in the knee of her old pajamas.

yawning wider, teased by a finger.

‘i’m good, i’m good.’ but there’s a sob somewhere behind the statement. ‘it’s just… paint, and you, and…’

she breaks off. words escape them so often.

shannon lays down beside her, right there in the sand. mary turns her head to look and her eyes are full of tears. there’s a miniature fire inside them - a reflection - and a darker patch that must be shannon.

reaching out, shannon takes her by the jaw, shimmies in the sand until she’s close enough.

‘can i kiss you?’

‘yeah.’

and she does. breaking it when they’re out of breath and mary’s tears have tracked down her face. ‘love you,’ she says, and it’s so soft you could miss it.

shannon doesn’t. god, she’s in love and its enormous. and she can’t hold it but she can hold mary.

‘want me to keep going?’

‘please.’

and so shannon paints a starry sky, hooking stars into scar tissue. casting flickers of orange-yellow through a tapestry of blues with mary’s dark skin underneath, drawing complications out of each shade. she draws the sky as you might see it on a beach, with a fire casting amber flecks of ash into the air. the stars draped low over water.

she paints the sky as you might see it if you lay next to a beautiful girl. if you loved her very much. if you were running out of light, and life, and you wanted to feel, for a moment, as though so temporary a thing could hold meaning, could capture the sky.

afterwards they lie together, paint still wet on mary’s skin, fire catching on silver-white stars and everlasting blues. mary falls asleep like that, to the sound of waves and shannon’s breathing.

in the morning, they’ll wake up and make a mess of mary’s back with palmprints, and shannon will use her mouth because her hands are stained, but for now the night sky has been stilled. no clouds, no sunrise.

shannon stays awake for as long as she can, but mary’s gripping her hand, holding it so close to her face that shannon feels the occasional brush of mary’s mouth against her knuckles.

i love you now, shannon thinks, and i’ll love you in the morning.

i hope that’s enough