#because my teacher is old fashioned like that

[damnpotatoe]

god give me strength i have been studying for 1 and a half hours an none of it gone in my head. 10 pages of biology i have to know by heart tomorrow. its gonna count 33.3% of my grade.

[gutfaced]

idk what your thoughts on haymitch/katniss as a r*mantic relationship are but it personally freaks me out because she is literally his adoptive daughter stop making things weird!! i've honestly liked a lot of freaky ships in the past but i draw the line with this/any ship with that kind of age difference dunamic because he is decades older than her and practically her dad and it is so so weird

i need everyone who ships it shot to death actually! it's not only illegal but there's a SPECIFIC father/daughter dynamic ingrained in their relationship and so to decide that they would ever be compatible romantically or sexually is something you need go to the nine circles and burn in hell for. crazy how you'd think my opinion on that is anything ambiguous i actually just need to strangle every evernathy shipper ever.

[annabelle--cane]

class and gender presentation is a particular Thing for me cause like. I've been poor my whole life, like malnourished-since-seventh-grade kind of poor, and I'm quite feminine, and my femininity inevitably makes people read me as wealthy. when I was a young kid, my classmates would phrase it like I dressed "fancy" or "old fashioned" ("fancy?" I would think, looking at my outfit that was just a single dress, literally one dress, the most simple and easy outfit a person can wear), and as I and my peers got older, that changed to people thinking I was some kind of like, old money heiress. because girlies who get free school lunches are incapable of wearing perfume, apparently.

multiple times a semester, I would have to explain and re-explain to teachers that I couldn't pay for mandatory field trips or extra-credit private tutoring, and every time they would think I was lying because I was too smart and too feminine to be poor. in some circumstances, when I tried to speak out about queerness or misogyny, it would get dismissed as hysterical privileged whinging because I had the audacity to wear dangly earrings and sit with my legs crossed while talking about domestic abuse.

like I Know there are ways that certain standards of femininity are locked behind paywalls or incompatible with manual labor jobs, but I honestly think a lot of our perception of femininity as upper class comes from the way that femininity / womanhood (not the same thing, but often considered as such) are seen as artificial, fragile, and frivolous. I would stand next to my classmates, me in my threadbare sundress that I'd been wearing for eight years and them in their brand new designer athleisure wear, and they'd say "okay obviously you're going to play the rich bully in this educational skit about classism."

anyway. I've never played disco elysium but I love this screenshot so much.

[just-a-ghost00]

Your future spouse : Who? Where? When?

Group 1 - Van Gogh

Letters : E M D E R U O E P W T Y

Words/signs/names : deputy, Rudy, Emery, Roy, power, true, Morty, drum, poetry, proud, meet, WED, route, pure, Tower, remedy, dom, prom, word, rude, drop, rope, dye, eye, TUE, wet, pet, pouty, muted, dope, prude

Recommended songs : Fly me to the moon Frank Sinatra, Sweater weather The Neighborhood, Snooze AGUSTD, MIA Bad Bunny ft Drake

WHO? - White Numen / Ask body / Magnesite : get your mind right.

Oh this person is powerful and stubborn AF. The bull and the panther may be spirit animals of this person. If not, they like these animals or their personality matches those. In terms of astrological placements, we have Taurus and Aquarius, as well as Earth signs in general (Taurus Virgo Capricorn). They are a boss ass B. They are masculine. Like reaaaallyyyy masculine. They have BIG DADDY energy. Jupiter might be very well aspected in their chart or the sign in which Jupiter is in their chart matches well with the energy of Jupiter. That would be Sagittarius, Pisces and Cancer. This person is a creator and a good manifestor. They think a lot. They are cerebral. They may strugg with overthinking but their mind reminds their best asset. They are the epitome of brains are sexy. This person would know everything from ancient languages and art skills to the newest knowledge in technology and medicine. They can do anything and everything they set their mind to. In terms of their looks, they are definitely tall. They would tower over you and lift you up like you were a feather. They are strong in all aspects. Their torso is bigger than the lower part of their body. They have broad shoulders, big hands, big forehead and nose, prominent jawline, regardless of their gender. Maybe for the women identifying people the bum and chest would be bigger than other features of their body. And for the men identifying people, the pectorals would be juicy. With the ask body card, this tells me this person works out a lot. They are also very spiritual. They give off a lone wolf energy when really this person has a lot of love to give they just know what they want and they have strong boundaries. So they would never let themselves be walked over or let in people who would bring more BS than anything. This person would keep you on your toes for sure. I feel like they would have a bold fashion style. Something that stands out from current trends or that is unusual for people who are like them. For instance, let’s say this person is quite old, maybe you’d expect them to wear suits and fancy watches. But instead this person has a very casual look or dresses like the younger people. They could be your boss or at least someone who has a higher status than yours. It wouldn’t surprise me if they already had kids. They are well established.

WHEN? - Page of pentacles / Higher perspective / Bismuth : rewrite your code with rainbows.

In terms of timing, the page of pentacles represents several months. Now if we look at the meaning of the page of pentacles, it talks about education. The page is a learner, a student in matters of material aspects. Combined with the Higher perspective card, this definitely gives me the feeling of going back to college. Or getting a training in something very specific. Potentially something involving spirituality. Like taking reiki courses or tarot reading lessons. So I feel this person is a teacher or a mentor to you. With the Bismuth card, I feel like this person will be opening doors for you. And that could be litteral because the door of my room opened out of nowhere as I was trying to get more information from the card. Higher perspective is related to Ether. This means to me that you will meet at a point in your life when you wish to evolve, to embody a better version of yourself and seek to gain knowledge or power.

WHERE? - King of cups / The Explorer / Malachite : claim your success.

We already had kind of a hint with the previous section. And I feel like it’s further confirmed by these cards, especially the Malachite card. Now if we talk about geographical indicators, water seems to be relevant. Also on the Explorer card there’s a compass. So it tells me that where you meet them, there is either a plan or something related to navigation or orientation. Also when looking at this card I heard "you already know where to find them". So it gives me the strong feeling that many of you already know this person and already met them. It’s just that you didn’t consider them your FS. Also the malachite card mentions the workspace. So you could work together. Or you’re doing the same job and you go to them for advice. Also the king of cups card depicts a man sitting on a thrown spilling water in an ocean of sharks. So this also tells me there’s a lot of competition where you meet. And it’s like this person is trying to educate or heal the sharks somehow.

Group 2 - Monet

Disclaimer : I kept confusing you with group 1 and there were cards of group 1 that kept wanting to come into your reading so you might want to check group 1 as well. I think there are two people that have the potential of being your future spouse.

Letters : L I S G E S T M S I E K

Words / signs / names : Selim, time, lies, mess, Tess, seek, kisses, misses, meets, lists, sees, skies, ski, Mike, miles, gems, glee, mist, melt, GSM, kit, leek, miel (French for honey), TMI, MIT, Stiles, geek

Recommended songs : Easy Camilla Cabello, Life goes on AGUSTD , Hall of fame Stray Kids

WHO? - Ace of pentacles / The Seeker / Aragonite : find your center.

Earth signs are being shown here. On the ace of pentacles card there are 8 hands reaching for the pentacle. So your person is wanted by many. They feel younger than you. They are possibly a student or a young active. With the Seeker card I feel like this person hasn’t found their true calling yet. They feel lost and out of balance. Maybe they got a job that doesn’t make them happy or their studies aren’t as fulfilling as they thought. They are super shy and reserved. They may appear as cold when they are just a softy. They have trust issues. They feel really cute to be honest. But also they are lonely. It’s like they keep searching for the one, when they have so many prospects. I feel like they have a lot of high standards and they know that other people don’t match the vibe they’re going for. I feel like this person only has eyes for you but you don’t see them. Again, this group knows their FS already. In terms of physical traits, I feel like this person has good hands. But their body might look out of shape a little. They’re more on the chubby side. They look comforting. Like the type of person that would give the best hugs. Their gaze is really soft. Like a puppy. They feel pretty needy tbh. But not the suffocating type of needy. They just want to be loved and crave for connection. Someone that will share their interests and values. Who will match their crazy and feel safe in their presence. I feel like this person has faced a lot of rejection in the past and they kinda are stuck with this idea that no one wants them. They are an introvert. They like to isolate and be in their bubble. I feel like people have an idea of them that is completely false. Like maybe they think this person is a flirt and parties all night when in truth they’re a couch potato and a gym rat. They only go out of truly needed and they would rather be alone than surrounded by tons of people they barely know. This person wants a family of their own so bad. Like a big family with the white dog and pretty little house. They’re a hopeless romantic and an idealist.

WHEN? - 2 of pentacles / Reclaim / Scolecite : dive into your dreams.

On the 2nd of a month, two months from now. It feels like you may be going back and forth with this person before fully knowing them or being close to them. There’s a chase and run type of energy to this connection. You’ll meet them when you or they are reclaiming your/their power and changing something in your life. So moving houses, changing jobs or getting back to studying. When you start chasing your dreams. Also you could meet them in your dreams before meeting them in person. During any earth sign season.

WHERE? - Queen of pentacles / Power / Amethyst : get drunk on your highest self.

In a places of power or worship such as Cathedrals and Churches, Mosques, temples, town halls, or in a place of education. Also monuments came to mind. Like the Eiffel Tower, the leaning tower of Pisa. There were many stars on the Queen of pentacles’s dress so Europe came to mind. The US and the UK as well. Other places include : Siberia, the Far East, Brazil, Uruguay, Sri Lanka, South Africa, Mexico, Australia, South Korea, India, Austria, Germany, Italy, Canada.

Group 3 - Hokusai

Letters : C Q T E C S L I G A L I

Words/signs/names : Ali, Alice, Alicia, Cecilia, Scilla, Giles, Gael, Gaelic, sigil, sea, sail, Lisa, aigle (French for eagle), Elisa, Elias, Cali, cast, list, tails, IQ, Tesla, sage, Isac, Lila, lilac, cis, alt, ciel (French for sky), call, site, Lise, teal, lace, acts, sell

Recommended songs : Mon amour GEMINI , 3:00 AM Finding hope , Dark on me Starset

WHO? - 6 of pentacles / The Revolutionary / Honey calcite : break through your limits.

First of all, your person might have a white dog. Second of all, they have tanned skin. Thirdly, they could work in law enforcement or they are studying at Law school. They could be doing humanitarian work. They are balanced and grounded. Both in their attitude as well as their personality. They know when to give and when to take, when to talk and when to listen, when to act and when to observe. With the revolutionary card, this tells me that they are pretty determined and ambitious. This person likes to stand for greater causes. So you’d bet that they advocate for children and women rights, for the LGBTQIA+ community, for the respect of nature and animals as well as the end of wars. The signs of Taurus, Aries, Sagittarius and Leo are significant. This person is very sweet. Almost to the point where sometimes they put others needs before their own. Especially if it’s about being fair and giving retribution for wrongs caused by previous generations. This person feels like they have a debt they need to pay. Also they might have suffered abuse in the past so they want to have retribution for them but also for the people who were wronged like they were. In terms of physical traits, their body is harmonious. So for female presenting individuals, they would have kind of an hour glass body type. Same for male presenting individuals. This person feels gender fluid. They are a minimalist. They like to keep things simple when it comes to the way they look. Honestly if they could be naked on a daily basis they would be. They’re in touch with nature. Animals love them. They have a very comforting aura. This person really is as sweet as honey. They could be a creator, a designer, a public speaker. They like to use their voice and their status to raise awareness about things they care about and value. They could be a teacher as well or someone that works with kids.

WHEN ? Page of swords / Paradox / Hematite : align with your wholeness.

When stars align. When you finally let your guards down. When you align with your calling, your soul mission. During any air sign season. Within a few weeks from now. When you’re on your period. When you let go of your old beliefs on love or when you move on from a past love, an unrequited love or a crush that would never have evolved into anything more than friendship. When your spiritual beliefs change drastically (i.e. you decide to convert to a new faith, you no longer believe in God, you choose to follow a spiritual path).

WHERE? - Queen of swords / Get wild / Emerald : point your heart toward grace.

In terms of countries, we have : Colombia, Brazil, Zambia, Zimbabwe, USA, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, Australia. Now, in terms of where you could meet, I'm not getting much from these cards. It's like your FS wants to play hide and seek. They're not really comfortable sharing where they are. The only thing I'm picking up on is somewhere where the law is involved. So it could be an administration, a police station, law school, a lawyer's office, a prison. With the get wild card, the only hint I can get is that it can get intense. I asked for a card to clarify the Queen of swords and I got the 9 of pentacles. So law and money are involved. So maybe a bank or an insurance company. Or somewhere businesses and entrepreneurs go to get advice on how to invest their money or know if something they intend to do is legal or not.

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[bloatedandalone04]

Tell Me What’s My Flavor

➪the one where jake is a college professor and also your boyfriend.

Warnings: smut, fluff, age gap (12 years), past student/teacher relationship, oral (f receiving), swearing, unprotected sex, crying during sex bc it’s that good

Word Count: 4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.4K FOLLOWERS

Jake’s fingers were dusted with white chalk, his old-fashioned ways refusing to let him use the laptop and projector to teach his lessons. Maybe he’d upgrade to a white board and marker one day, but that’s as far as he was going. 

His back was turned to his students as he wrote out the lesson plan for the last half of the class, which was pretty much textbook questions since he actually wanted people to use the things they paid for, and he knew for a fact that his colleagues didn’t use the textbooks much in their classes. 

He knew he liked his job a bit too much and/or was getting a bit too old since the soft scratching of the chalk on the black board was soothing to him, while he was sure the seventeen twenty year olds behind him were getting a tad irritated at the sound. 

Jake’s button up was slightly wrinkled from this morning, when you bunched it up in your hands as you made out in his car outside of campus for a good twenty minutes before class, and he hoped it wasn’t extremely obvious as to why the fabric was so scrunched up. The last thing he needed was for there to be gossip about what he got up to in his free time, and who he got up to with. 

God, you were so sexy and so beautiful, Jake still couldn’t believe you had chosen him to be your boyfriend when there were hundreds of younger guys on campus. But you told him you had a thing for older guys, and he had a thing for you. 

He’d been teaching at this school for about five years now, and he met you in his fourth year here. A year and a half ago, you were actually one of his students, and you were so confident and so stunning, he didn’t stand a chance. Though he tried not to, he fell for you hard, and thankfully you fell for him back, despite the twelve year age gap, with you being twenty three now and him being thirty five. 

It was hard to be both your boyfriend and your teacher, and fuck if it didn’t make him feel fucking guilty at times, but the two of you manged to keep it a secret so you didn’t get expelled, and he didn’t get fired. Secret kisses here and there, sleepovers at his apartment and quick hookups in his car were what you did for a good year, but that semester was over, and it was a bit easier now that he didn’t have to worry about his girlfriend getting offended if he gave her a justifiably bad grade since you weren’t his student anymore. 

That was one thing he made sure to do; treat you as equal in class so, one, no one questioned why he had a soft spot for you, and two, because you were there to learn and be graded fairly, and that was the least he could do, really. 

With that being said, because of the twelve year age gap, it sometimes felt a lot bigger when Jake realized that you were in pretty different places in your lives, with him well into his career and you trying to get started in one. Still, he wouldn’t change a thing (except for maybe falling for you while you were his student, because he still didn’t know how to explain that one to his friends), because he was in love with you, and you loved him right back.

You also made sure to remind him that you were so happy that he was so much more mature compared to all the losers on campus, and that shouldn’t make him feel so full of pride, but here he is. 

You still had to keep your relationship private for now, since you were still a student, just not his anymore. 

By day, Jake was a somewhat strict but also very easygoing college professor, and by night, he was your older boyfriend who would gladly spend hours on end fucking you into his mattress before falling asleep with you in his arms. 

He had just finished writing the instructions on the board when he glanced over at the door to the classroom, the small window revealing his favorite person standing in the hall. You gave him a flirty smile, tilting your head as you brought your hand up and waved your fingers at him, making his grip loosen on the piece of chalk. 

Even though he had just seen you this morning, your short skirt and cropped top still made him bite down on his lip as he tried to keep his cool. You curled your index finger, beckoning him into the hallway with you, then you brought that same finger up to your lips in a gesture for him to be quiet about it.

He raised a brow, smirking over at you as he dropped his arm down to his side. He knew exactly what you wanted, and he knew he wanted it too. Badly. 

The rational part of his brain screamed at him to turn away and apologize to you for it later, and reminded him how you and he needed to be careful, but the rest of him didn’t give a fuck. 

Jake turned to the class with a tight smile, tossing the piece of chalk onto his desk. “Sorry, everyone,” he said, giving his best natural smile. “I need to step out for a few minutes. Get started on these and we’ll pick up where we left off when I get back.”

That was a good cover, right? 

After he got a bunch of mumbled responses and heard the sound of multiple pages being turned, he quickly walked over to the door and stepped out into the empty hall with you. Almost instantly, your hands were on his shoulders and your mouth was against his as he pulled you into his arms. 

“I missed you,” you mumbled in between kisses, your hands bunching up his shirt again, similar to how you did it in the car earlier. “I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to interrupt your classes like this, but mine ended early, and I missed you.”

Jake groaned, his hands sliding down to squeeze your hips. “Don’t apologize, you can interrupt me anytime,” he murmured against your lips. “And fuck, I missed you too, baby.” 

He nipped at your bottom lip before pulling away and looking down at your outfit that was driving him as wild as it did two hours ago. Fuck, it had only been two hours and he missed you like crazy. What was wrong with him?

“God, you look so fucking pretty. So fucking sexy,” he huffed out, turning his head to make sure that the hallway was still empty as his hands slid up to brush against the gap of skin between the hem of your top and your skirt. “How am I supposed to focus when all I can think about is bending you over my desk and fucking you senesless?” 

You grinned, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you hummed. “Well, we have fucked on your desk more times than I can count on both hands,” you mumbled, your fingers coming up to smooth out the collar of his wrinkled shirt. “I’m surprised you can even focus in there at all when you know that you’ve made me cum so many times on that very desk.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned quietly, placing a soft kiss to your jaw, “Every time I sit at that desk, all I can picture is you bent over over it while I rail you from behind.”

You laughed quietly, covering your mouth as you also looked around the hall again. “That’s a really pretty picture,”

Jake nodded in agreement before lifting his hand to caress your face. “Dinner at my place tonight? I’ll cook and clean up, and then we can pick up right where we left off here,” he offered, eyes darkening a bit at the thought of getting you all to himself later. 

“You know I’d never pass that up,” you reply, leaning up to steal one last kiss. “Am I sleeping over again tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he answered, “I plan on keeping you in my bed all weekend long, baby.”

You grinned in excitement, “Sounds fun. I love you. Think of me during the rest of your class,”

“I will,” he laughed, stealing one last kiss of his own before stepping away from you. “I love you too. Now get out of here before you get us both in trouble.”

You gave him a firm nod, a poorly hidden smile on your lips as you turned around and quickly made your way towards the exit doors at the end of the hallway, and Jake was already counting down the minutes left until class was over and he could have you back in his arms. 

-

After Jake finished with his classes for the day, he returned home and spent the rest of the afternoon tidying up his apartment before getting started on dinner. In the year and a half he’s been with you, he learned that you have a rather plain palate since you usually just skipped meals or ate out (he remembered he was a similar way when he was in college and barely had time to actually make himself a proper dinner), but you liked pasta quite a lot. Which, to be fair, is a pretty simple dish, but he’d make it for you as often as you wanted it, and you wanted it tonight. 

Just after six, he heard the door open and close quietly, before your voice called out to him. Then you were peeking your head into the dining room, a pretty smile on your lips as you met his eyes from across the room. “Hi,” you murmured just as he set the plates down. 

“There’s my girl,” he grinned, reaching for you once you entered the dining room and pulling you into his arms. He peppered your face with kisses as you set your bag down by the chair, your quiet laugh making his grin widen. “I missed you. Dinner’s ready when you are.” 

You gave him a grateful smile as you pulled away. “Now? I didn’t get to have breakfast and I skipped lunch, so I’m kinda starving,” 

Jake hummed, raising a brow at your lack of care for yourself, and he was actually very happy that you had him to look after you since he was sure you’d forget to eat a lot if you hadn’t started dating him. “Of course, but first,” he mumbled, grabbing your wrist before you could turn away. He pulled you back to him and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, his fingers cradling your jaw. “There. Now we can go eat.”

Your face was red as you sat down at the table, your eyes raking over the simple yet tasty looking pasta. “God, you’re so romantic,” you sighed dramatically before smiling up at him as he pushed your chair in for you. “Your exes are so fucking stupid for letting you go. But now I got you.”

You leaned up towards him and he moved down to meet you halfway for a chaste kiss. 

“Thank you, Jake, this is perfect,” you whispered against his mouth before pulling away. “Just like you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about perfect,” he laughed as he sat down next to you at the table. “Perfection is overrated, flaws are interesting. Luckily for me, I have a lot of those.”

Jake was aware of just how fucking stupid that sounded, but he’s spent the last seven years of his life as a teacher. It was kind of impossible for him to not over-analyze and over-explain things at times. 

He was also very aware of just how domestic this whole thing felt, and he would be lying if he were to say that he hadn’t been craving this feeling for quite some time now. 

“Besides,” he added, not wanting to sound like a total fucking geek in front of you, even though he kind of is one. “If I was perfect, I probably wouldn’t have ended up with you in the end because I wouldn’t have gotten broken up with.” 

You laughed and shook your head as you picked up your fork and took a bite. “Speaking of…” you trailed off once you finished chewing, and your leg brushed against his under the table. “We haven’t really talked about that much. How many girlfriends did you have before me?” Your voice held no hints of jealousy, just curiosity, so Jake knew this wasn’t a test and he didn’t have to be careful with this topic. 

He reached for his beer he opened before you got here. “Um…there was Jenna for about two years, then there was Hannah for just under one. I had a few short flings here and there, but nothing all that serious. Not until I met you,” he answered, “You’re different, someone I actually connect with in more ways than one, even if you are a brat sometimes and pull me out of my classes.”

You hummed and smiled over at him, leaning your chin on your hand as you purse your lips. “Am I…you know, the youngest girlfriend you’ve had?” You asked, and this time you sounded a bit hesitant. 

Jake set his beer down and reached for your hand instead. “Well, yeah,” he replied, “But don’t sell yourself short, baby. Yeah, we have a bit of an age gap, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I may be a bit older, but you bring out a side of me I didn’t even know I had, and I reel you back in when you need me to. We balance each other out damn near perfectly, I’d say.”  

You nodded and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, we do…and you…see us lasting?” You murmur, looking down at your half eaten plate with a faint blush on your face. Now you sounded vulnerable, and Jake hated it, but you didn’t let him answer before you continued, “I know we’re at different places in our lives, but I know that I want you, Jake. You’re the first boyfriend I’ve had who’s made me feel like this; so good and seen and, well, you don’t treat me like a child. You treat me like I’m your world, and I just…I love you, more than I thought possible, and I want to know if you see a future with me. Could you see yourself, you know, marrying me?”

Jake’s eyes flickered between yours, and he knew that you were putting your heart on your sleeve right now, and he wasn’t about to say the wrong thing. He set his fork down and got up from his chair, only to kneel next to yours. “Baby, I see a lifetime with you. You’re not just my girlfriend, you’re my partner. Yeah, my life has been pretty fucking great, but then I met you and I don’t see a future without you in it,” he took your hands in his, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. “Yes, I do see myself marrying you. That would make me so fucking happy, but further down the road, when we’re both ready for it.”

The uncertainty in your eyes faded, and you smiled down at him as you turned to face him properly. “So this is a real thing?” You asked, leaning down to press your forehead to his. “We’re good?”

Jake laughed under his breath before nodding. “We’re more than good. We’re solid, baby. You and me, and I’m not going anywhere,” he nuzzles his nose against yours, murmuring the words he’s known since he met you. “You’re my forever girl, now and always.”

A soft whine left your lips, and you seemed to have forgotten all about the rest of your dinner as you pushed him back onto his heels before you got up and moved to straddle his lap. “I love you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you kissed him deeply. “It’s so stupid how much I love you. You’re all I think about. When I’m in class, all I can think about is when you were my teacher and we’d have to pretend we weren’t fucking in your bed the night before.” 

Jake groaned, kissing you again as his hands settled on your waist. Your words had him also thinking back to when he’d have to make sure he didn’t spend his entire lesson looking at just you and thinking about how you’d be at his apartment with him once the class was over. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he grunted, his hands sliding down to grasp your ass. “The things I wanted to do to you. Fuck, I need you. Right now. Fuck dinner.” 

You squealed as he easily stood up with you clinging to his front, his lips pressing to your neck as he made a beeline for the hallway. “Are you going to make love to me, Jake?” You whimpered as you pulled at his hair, trying to rub yourself against his abs as he carried you into his bedroom. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m going to kiss every inch of you and make you feel so good,” he promised, laying you down gently on his bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor before he crawled on top of you, one of his knees sliding between your thighs as he connected your lips again. His hands pulled up your sinful little crop top and tossed it aside before reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Once your top half was bare, Jake pulled away from your lips and began placing open mouthed kisses to your skin, whispering anything that came to mind. “You’re so beautiful, my gorgeous girl. My forever love.”

“Jake,” you gasped, leaning back on his pillow as his hand slid up your skirt and brushed along your clothed core at the same time his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples. “Please…please.” 

Your hands pulled at his hair in a way that had him groaning against your soft skin. “Patience, baby,” he murmured, pulling away from your chest as his hands tugged down both your skirt and panties and let them join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Then he was burying his face between your thighs, parting your folds with long, slow strokes of his tongue and moaning at the sweet taste of you. 

His nose bumped against your puffy clit as his tongue slid inside your warmth, his hands wrapping around your thighs to spread them even wider as he ravished you. “Fuck,” you cried out, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Oh, God…just like that.” 

Your sounds were music to Jake’s ears, and they only spurred him on. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked on it, coaxing more and more of those sweet sounds from your mouth until your back was arching and your hand was pulling harder on his hair. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, flicking your bundle of nerves with his tongue. “Cum for me. Let me taste you.”

Not long after he said those words, you were writhing against his bed and coming on his tongue. Your sweet taste coated his mouth and chin, and he licked up every drop until you were shaking and softly crying his name.

He pulled away from your sensitive core and crawled back up your body, his lips finding yours in a deep kiss as he muttered, “So fucking beautiful,” and ground his erection against your hip. 

You moaned against his mouth, kissing him back messily as you pulled him impossibly closer to you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your shaky fingers unzipping and pushing down his jeans as you bucked your hips against his. “Please,” you whimpered, still shaking in his arms. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Jake hushed you softly, cradling your face with one hand while his other reached down to grip the base of his cock, and he slowly entered you with one smooth thrust. “Fuck…you’re so tight.” 

He held still for a few seconds before beginning to move, finding a steady rhythm as he rocked into you with deep, slow thrusts. His hand slid beneath your knee, hiking your leg up higher on his hip as he found an even deeper angle, and the soft whine you let out went straight to his head.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he rasped, keeping your leg wrapped firmly around his waist as he sped up just a bit, his eyes fixed on the gentle sway of your breasts. 

“Oh, God,” you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut as your head tipped back on the pillow again. Your moans were loud as you turned your head and buried your nose into the fabric that smelled like his shampoo and body wash. “Jake.” you whimpered, and he could see the tears gather along your waterline as he fucked you slowly into his mattress, letting you feel every single inch of his cock. 

He leaned down, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth as he cradled your head. “I’m right here, baby,” he whispered, “I got you. You’re so perfect.” He knew that made him a hypocrite since he said that perfection was overrated, but here you were; stunning in every way possible and so damn right for him. That was the only way he could describe it. You. Perfect. 

Jake’s hands were all over your body, caressing every curve he knew so well as your moans got louder and more frequent. “Fuck…I’m not perfect, Jake. You are,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his. 

“Shh, yes you are. You’re so fucking perfect, flaws and all, and everything that makes you the woman I fell in love with,” he grunted, peppering kisses along your face as he thrust a bit faster into you. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. You’re everything, baby. And I promise, no matter what, you’ll always have me.”

Jake was sweating a bit, his release creeping up on him from how good your body felt, and he wanted this to last forever.  

“Jake, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned quietly, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you tugged on his hair. The slick sound of your bodies meeting over and over again grew louder as you let out a soft cry of his name, then you were shaking in arms once again. 

His heart had never felt this full, his whole body thrumming as he rocked into you until he came deep inside of you, his vision blurring a bit at the intensity of it all. “Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face against the side of your neck as he shuddered through the aftershocks. “I love you.”

Jake wrapped you up in his arms, cuddling your body against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath. “I love you too,” you mumbled, tangling your legs with his. “Thank you for dinner…even though we didn’t actually get through all of it.” 

His lips turned upwards as he laughed, brushing his nose against yours. “Our priorities shifted,” he muttered, running his hand up the back of your thigh as he nuzzled his face against your shoulder and closed his eyes. “Need to rest my eyes for a sec, baby. Wake me up when you’re ready for round two.”

Your soft laugh had his smile growing, and that’s how he fell asleep, wrapped up in the arms of the person who had quickly stolen his heart, and he hoped like hell that you never gave it back to him.

Because as long as you had it, he knew he’d spend the rest of his being so fucking happy with you by his side.

[greekmythcomix]

You Are Odysseus

So

I’m a teacher of Classical Civilisation that has taught the Odyssey for over a decade and studied pretty much every myth and story with Odysseus in it.. I think

and I’m writing an Interactive Fiction (choose your own path) version of the Odyssey, inspired by the Homeric phrase “he turned his great heart this way and that”, where you are Odysseus, allowing you to follow his decisions or make your own

and it already has 400 sections to it - written to emulate modern translations of the Odyssey, including the literary features of simile, formula, epithet, and the rest - and 21 different ways to die, and quite a lot of period and theme-appropriate alternatives

(and if I get time, the option to be Telemachus or Penelope, although that might have to wait because it’s already a monster)

and I’ve tested what I’ve made so far on my pupils, other Classics teachers, and some of the leading (and best-read) Greek Mythology podcasters and YouTubers, all of whom have universally loved it (yay!)

(EDIT: Oops and I presented on it at the Classical Association conference last year)

I’m trying to finish it this summer, but need a bit of encouragement to do so

EDIT: and I forgot to say that ideally I’m planning on it being a beautiful BOOK with an old-fashioned cover and lots of ribbons to mark your place ❤️ (ex-bookseller ofc)

so, please let me know if you’d like to know more!

(EDIT: or sign up here go get notified directly when it’s ready: https://ljenkinsonbrown.wordpress.com/you-are-odysseus-signup/ )

[incorrectclassicbookquotes]

"Some teachers express concern that giving students a second chance might be unfair and that “life isn’t like that.” They point out that that a surgeon doesn’t get a second chance to perform an operation successfully and a pilot doesn’t get a second chance to land a jumbo jet safely. Because of the very high stakes involved, each must get it right the first time."

"But how did these highly skilled professionals learn their craft? The first operation performed by that surgeon was on a cadaver—a situation that allows a lot of latitude for mistakes. Similarly, the pilot spent many hours in a flight simulator before ever attempting a landing from the cockpit. Such experiences allowed them to learn from their mistakes and to improve their performance. Similar instructional techniques are used in nearly every professional endeavor. Only in schools do student face the prospect of one-shot, door-die assessments, with no chance to demonstrate what they learned from previous mistakes."

These are two paragraphs in one of my papers and it's so true. These old-fashioned teachers try to use the "surgeons and pilots can't try again excuse" but forget that surgeons and pilots don't go into it doing it the first time. In fact, I'd be very afraid if I was getting surgery and the surgeon had never practiced once or if I was on a plane where the pilot had never once practiced.

[nyoomfruits]

osctober day five

prompt: teacher pairing: charles/oscar word count: 900

“Seriously, Ames?” Oscar says, when he rounds the corner and finds her sitting on a chair just outside the classroom.

“It was for love, dad!” Amelia exclaims, jumping up when she sees him. “I can’t just not do it if it is for love.”

Oscar has conflicting opinions on that. It is, sweet, of course. He’s glad Amelia still believes in the concept of love at all, seeing as her own father is so completely shit at it. But like. He really wishes she would stop hosting flashmobs. Or serenades. Or that time she and that boy from her Spanish class that was really good at programming tried to make a matchmaking app.

“Right, yeah,” Oscar says, ruffling her hair. She’s too old for that now, and he knows he only gets away with it because she knows she’s in trouble. “Just. Maybe find a more quiet avenue next time, yeah? How about a good old fashioned love note?”

Amelia’s eyes light up in a way that the unexperienced eye would find adorable, but that fills the person who has been raising her for the past fifteen years mostly with dread. “Yes,” she breathes out, and then grabs for her bag, probably to retrieve a notepad.

“Okay, well, I guess while you go plan your next ‘disruption of a calm learning environment’ I will go speak with Mr. Leclerc yeah?” He says, hand on the doorknob. She barely glances at him and he sighs as he pushes open the door.

“Ah, Mr. Piastri,” Mr. Leclerc says, looking up from his desk with a wide smile. “You made it.”

Oscar thinks, generally, that he would have a much better time coming to the school to talk about his daughter’s behavior if her teacher wasn’t so goddamn pretty. With bright, sparkling eyes, and a lazy smile, and the kind of artfully tousled hair Oscar couldn’t even achieve if he tried.

The horribly baggy pants and oversized button up combo don’t even ruin the look. Somehow it makes him look cool. Oscar hasn’t looked cool since, well. Possibly ever.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Oscar says, sitting down in the chair Mr. Leclerc gestures at. “Again. I don’t know who he has it from.”

“Not you, I presume?” Mr. Leclerc says, eyes twinkling. He doesn’t seem mad, so that’s. Good. Amelia’s previous teacher consistently got their panties in a bunch about the well. Singing. And dancing. And everything.

“No, god no,” he hasn’t tried in a while, but he doesn’t think he could dance. Or sing.

“Her mother, perhaps?” Mr. Leclerc asks, flipping through some folders on his desk.

“Maybe,” Oscar says. “She hasn’t been around for a long time, so. Yeah. I think she mostly gets it from Lando? I mean not the singing and the dancing but this. Need to perform? He’s a DJ, so.”

“Ah, your partner?” Charles asks, looking up at Oscar now, curiously.

“Oh Christ no,” Oscar says, trying not to pull a face, remembers he’s talking to his daughter’s teacher, and schools himself into a more neutral expression. “No, uh. Lando’s just a friend. Of the family. He’s not. He has a boyfriend.”

“Ah,” Charles says. “Alright. Well, I mostly summoned you here because-“

“Because my daughter upheaved your class by performing a perfectly choreographed flashmob to Bruno Mars’s ‘Just The Way You Are’? Yeah, I uh. I heard. And I apologize, again. I’ve been trying to talk to her about it, but it’s-“ he pulls a face. “It’s just me and she’s just uh. Very different and sometimes I just. I don’t really know how to get through to her?”

It’s the most honest he’s been in a while. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly blurting all of this out to Mr. Leclerc of all people. He’s blaming the big sparkly eyes. Stupid eyelashes, too.

“Hm, I can imagine. All parents kind of feel like that when they reach this age, though, don’t worry. No, I was actually wondering if you were aware of our after school theatre program? I think she would do wonderfully in there. If it’s more the dancing she’s into, or the singing, there’s also a dance team and a choir.”

Oscar blinks. Process. He’s so used to hearing Amelia’s teacher admonish her behavior he wasn’t really expecting anyone to. Well. Encourage her.

“Oh,” he says.

“They’re free, school funded programs, if that’s a concern,” Mr. Leclerc continues. “But I do think it might be a nice outlet for her.”

“Yeah,” he says. He knew, vaguely, that there were clubs. But Amelia had never expressed an interest, and he’d been too busy juggling his demanding job and raising a teenager to ever properly look into them and. Yeah. He takes the folder Mr. Leclerc hands him.

“Thak you, Mr. Leclerc,” he says. Mr. Leclerc stands, and so does he.

“No problem. That was all, really. I do some of the musical accompaniments for the theatre and choir programs so if you have any questions feel free to ask.” By the door, Mr. Leclerc takes his hand. Oscar shakes it a little dazedly. “And please. Call me Charles.”

“Oscar,” Oscar says. Charles hands are soft, and his smile is gentle, and his eyes are still so incredibly stupidly sparkly and fuck. Fuck.

“How did it go?” Amelia asks, when he steps back out the door.

‘I think I might be in love with your teacher’, he thinks. “We’re enrolling you into the school’s theatre program,” he says.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

silly things I think the brothers have done

not proof read, also I did all of the things on these lists so it's kinda like the brothers as things I have done hehe ( I couldn't come up with some stuff for some of them so forgive me for some brothers having shorter or more boring lists)

alternative title: the brothers as real things I have done (I swear I'm not that insane)

-----

lucifer

use whatever the devildom version of red bull is as an 'emergency tool' to quickly stop being tired only when he really needs to (don't do this)

accidentally sent a formal important email to somebody completely unrelated because it was 3am and he wasn't sharp (poor person had no idea what he was talking about) (this still haunts me)

one time when he was at a farm a peacock kept following him and kept opening its feathers to him no matter how many times he walked away

mammon

always buys something one of his brothers or mc will like in a store when he sees it for them

bought expensive perfume and quit his job two seconds afterwards

made the mistake of online shopping while being drunk and then cried over a mini bag and bought it because it would be cute for his future child

accidentally almost burnt down a school chemistry lab because he put a plastic tube over the fire (the teacher warned him not to do that) (everything was fine the tube was just a little on fire it only had like salt water in it)

leviathan

met his favorite artist and accidentally dropped his bags right before the picture in front of said artist (the artist tried to help him but he said nono its okay while fixing the mess) (he dropped the bag 1 second after asking if it was okay to put it down) (this still haunts me I'm so sorry to the artist for having to see me fight a bag)

messed up karaoke one time when he was home alone and destroyed his voice for the next week

attended a vocaloid concert

satan

accidentally made somebody believe he has a child because he calls a cat his baby or his son and forgot to specify he's talking about a cat

saw a cat meow and paw at somebody he didn't know's front door and he felt bad for it so he rang the doorbell and asked the guy who lives there 'is this your cat?' but the cat already went inside (luckily it was his cat or else that would have been super awkward)

cut his own hair once out of protest because somebody kept forcing him to cut it (they never forced him to do anything with his hair again so it worked) (I was like 11 years old when I did this)

asmodeus

wore platform heels while hiking because he refused to wear hiking shoes (those were the only shoes he brought to the vacation too) (there was no room to bring more because he already overpacked)

when somebody was being rude for no reason over his fashion choices he accidentally said 'not my problem you're allergic to slaying' out loud (I said this to my mom I almost died)

packed a full suitcase and a big tote bag for a one night hotel stay (the suitcase had an extra bag in it too)

sent his profs emails telling them he's sick so he can go to his beauty salons (this happened more than once)

beelzebub

traveled to a different city to buy a lot of a specific type of food and then came back

sometimes has to function as an alarm clock for one of his brothers (belphie) because its impossible to wake him up

stays home with his brothers when they're sick so they don't have to be alone

tried to make an oven pizza in the microwave with his brothers because the oven was not working (don't try this) (it turned out literally wet by the way)

belphegor

planned a way to skip certain class times every day without getting in trouble to sleep more

woke up from a nap extremely disoriented and asked someone what his name is

I'm so sorry I tried to come up with more things for him but I can't its been a week of thinking

[coyotelip]

starchaser microfic: fashion || schoolteacher james || @into-the-jeggyverse || wc: 355

“Okay, Reggie, which one?” asks James, holding up racks with two different pairs of jeans. 

One is dark blue, the other is black, but what connects them? Both pairs are from the skinny line. So you can understand the look Regulus gives his 33-year-old husband, who has unexpectedly entered the skinny jeans section, which even Regulus with his slender legs has doubts about. 

“You didn't lose your mind in the three minutes I left you alone, did you?” 

James pouts his lips like a child, lowering his hands. “Why is trying to fit in with new fashion trends so crazy to you now?” 

“Because it's skinny jeans, James. You're 33, you dress like a farmer, and you expect me to react to this adequately? How did you even end up at this counter?” Regulus snatches the hangers out of the man's hands and returns them to their place, blocking James' access to the rows of similarly horrific creations of modern fashion with his body. 

“Hey, 33 is not a deadline! And I talk to young people all the time, it's my job, so what's wrong with wanting to get a little closer to them? No one thinks a teacher in slacks and a cardigan is funny or cool, but if they're wearing jeans...” 

“Oh, please don't tell me you're going to seduce high school girls with your legs, James? I'll divorce you in a heartbeat. And you're too easily led by your children, tomorrow they'll tell you that purple hair is in fashion and so what?” 

“Don't be like that! I'm just trying to make them like me.” James comes closer to the man, hugging him around the waist. “And do you really think I'd look that bad in a skinny?” he says quietly, looking Regulus in the eyes. 

Reg tries to keep an annoyed face, but purses his lips, “Honestly? I want your legs all to myself, so don't you dare wear anything that fits like a second skin, because those shapes? They are mine to see.” 

With that last word, Regulus pulls out of the man's light embrace and heads for the next section. 

[writingwithcolor]

What Makes an Ethnic Villain "Ethnic" or "Villainous?" How Do You Offset it?

anonymous asked:

Hello WWC! I have a question about the antagonist of my story. She is (currently) Japanese, and I want to make sure I’m writing her in a way that doesn’t associates [sic] her being Asian with being villainous.  The story is set in modern day USA, this character is effectively immortal. She was a samurai who lost loved ones due to failure in combat, and this becomes her character[sic] motivation (portrayed sympathetically to the audience). This story explores many different time periods and how women have shown valor throughout history. The age of the samurai (and the real and legendary female warriors from it) have interested me the most, which is why I want her to be from this period.  The outfit she wears while fighting is based on samurai armor, and she wears modern and traditional Japanese fashion depending on the occasion. She acts pretty similar to modern day people, though more cynical and obsessed with her loss. She’s been able to adapt with the times but still highly values and cherishes her past.  She is the only Asian main character, but I plan to make a supportive Japanese side character. She’s a history teacher who knows about the villain and gives the protagonists information to help them, but isn’t involved in the main plot otherwise.  Are the way I’m writing this villain and the inclusion of a non-antagonist Japanese character enough to prevent a harmful reading of the story, or is there more I should do?

Why Does Your Villain Exist?

This makes me feel old because David Anders plays a villain with this kind of backstory in the series Heroes starring Masi Oka. 

I think you want to think about what you mean when you say: 

Villainous (In what way? To whom? To what end?)

Harmful (What tropes, narratives and implications are present?)

I’m relatively infamous in the mod circle for not caring too much about dimensions of “harm”. The concept is relative and varies widely between people and cultures. I don’t see much value in framing motivations around “What is less harmful?” I think for me, what matters more is: 

“What is more true?” 

“Are characteristics viewed as intrinsic to background, or the product of experiences and personal autonomy?”

“Will your portrayal resonate with a large audience?”

“What will resonate with the members of the audience who share the backgrounds your characters have?” 

This post offers additional questions you could ask yourself instead of “is this okay/not okay/harmful.” 

You could write a story where your antagonist is sly, sadistic, violent and cold-blooded. It may not be an interpretation that will make many Japanese from combat backgrounds feel seen or heard, but it’s not without precedent. These tropes have been weaponized against people of Japanese descent (Like Nikkei Japanese interned during World War II), but Japan also brutalized a good chunk of Asia during World War II. See Herge’s Tintin and The Blue Lotus for an example of a comic that accurately showcases the brutality of Japan’s colonization of Manchuria, but also is racist in terms of how Japanese characters are portrayed (CW: genocide, war, imperialism, racism).

You could also write a story where your character’s grief gives way to despair, and fuels their combat such that they are seen as calculating, frigid and deeply driven by revenge/ violence. This might make sense. It’s also been done to death for Japanese female warriors, though (See “Lady Snowblood” by Kazuo Koike and Kazuo Kamimura here, CW: sexual assault, violence, murder and a host of other dark things you’d expect in a revenge story). 

You could further write a story where your antagonist is not necessarily villainous, but the perceived harm comes from fetishizing/ exoticizing elements in how her appearance is presented or how she is sexualized, which is a common problem for Japanese female characters. 

My vote always goes to the most interesting story or character. I don’t see any benefit to writing from a defensive position. This is where I'll point out that, culturally, I can't picture a Japanese character viewing immortality as anything other than a curse. Many cultures in Japan are largely defined by transience and the understanding that many things naturally decay, die, and change form.

There are a lot of ways you could conceivably cause harm, but I’d rather hear about what the point of this character is given the dilemma of their position. 

What is her purpose for the plot? 

How is she designed to make the reader feel? 

What literary devices are relevant to her portrayal?

(Arbitrarily, you can always add more than 1 extra Japanese character. I think you might put less pressure on yourself with this character’s portrayal if you have more Japanese characters to practice with in general.) 

- Marika. 

When Off-Setting: Aim for Average

Seconding the above with regards to this villainess’s story and your motivations for this character, but regardless of her story I think it’s also important to look specifically at how the Japanese teacher character provides contrast. 

I agree with the choice to make her a regular person and not a superhero. Otherwise, your one Asian character is aggressively Asian-themed in a stereotypical Cool Japan way (particularly if her villain suit is samurai-themed & she wears wafu clothing every so often). Adding a chill person who happens to be Japanese and doesn’t have some kind of ninja or kitsune motif will be a breath of fresh air (well, more like a sigh of relief) for Japanese readers. 

A note on characterization—while our standard advice for “offset” characters is to give your offset character the opposite of the personality trait you’re trying to balance, in this case you might want to avoid opposites. You have a villainess who is a cold, tough “don’t need no man” type. Making the teacher mild-mannered, helpful, and accomodating would balance out the villainess’s traits, but you’ll end up swinging to the other side of the pendulum towards the Submissive Asian stereotype depending on execution. If avoiding stereotypes is a concern, I suggest picking something outside of that spectrum of gentleness to violence and making her really boring or really weird or really nerdy or a jock gym teacher or…something. You’re the author.

Similarly, while the villainess is very traditionally Japanese in her motifs and backstory, don’t make the teacher go aggressively in either direction—give her a nice balance of modern vs. traditional, Japanese vs. Western sensibilities as far as her looks, dress, interests, values, etc. Because at the end of the day, that’s most modern Japanese people. 

Sometimes, the most difficult representation of a character of color is making a character who is really average, typical, modern, and boring. 

- Rina

[stvrlightgirl]

✧˖°. So caught up in you ✧˖°.

part three

part two ←

summary: Finally, the long-awaited date with Remus had arrived, and it turn out perfect.

pairing: primary school teacher!remus lupin x single mom f!reader

warnings: just a lot of flufff

wc: 2,6k

a/n: I’m so proud of this chapter, because I was feeling like my writers block was kicking me again tbh, so I hope you will like it, enjoy!

The Friday afternoon sun dipped slightly over the horizon, casting a golden hue on everything it touched. The warmth of the light filtered through the airy curtains of your living room, setting a serene ambiance that contrasted with the nervous flutters in your stomach. As you pulled on your favorite pair of jeans, memories from earlier in the week flashed through your mind. Molly had been thrilled with her school project, a heartfelt painting, and how Remus had been encouraging and excited as she was.

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, taking a deep breath. It's just coffee, you reminded yourself. But the voice inside you, the one protective of Molly, wary of opening up to anyone again, whispered, that it’s more than that.

Seven years. Seven years since the man you'd trusted shattered your heart and left you alone to pick up the pieces, forcing you to build walls around your heart. Since then, Molly had been your universe, your prime focus. Dates seemed like a distant memory, almost another lifetime's activities, until a certain teacher of your daughter changed it all.

His casual yet earnest invitation had awoken emotions you'd buried deep, kindling both excitement and anxiety. You glanced at the clock – fifteen more minutes. Better get moving.

The café Remus mentioned was quaint and charming, with an old-world vibe. Fairy lights hung from its wooden beams, casting a soft glow, creating an intimate setting. As you pushed through the door, a gentle bell tinkled above you, and the familiar rich aroma of coffee beans wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The ambiance was cozy, with clusters of small tables and plush chairs arranged to encourage quiet conversation.

You spotted Remus almost immediately. He was seated at a corner table, his back straight, glancing through the window with a thoughtful gaze. Today, he wore a simple yet well-fitted navy shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the same watch you noticed in his classroom. His hair, as winter-brown as autumn leaves, framed his face in soft waves. When his eyes found yours, a warm smile spread across his features, and he stood up to greet you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice like a balm to your jittery nerves. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Hi, Remus,” you replied, returning his smile with a slightly shaky one of your own. His genuine warmth made you feel more at ease. He pulled out your chair for you, a gesture that seemed both old-fashioned and remarkably sweet, but it made you blush, of course.

As you settled in, a waitress approached with menus, and you both ordered coffee. You opted for a lavender cappuccino, while Remus went for an americano. The initial awkwardness of meeting someone new began to melt away as the conversation started flowing.

“So, how has your week been?” Remus asked, his eyes sincere and attentive.

You sighed lightly, thinking of the everyday hustle and bustle that defined your life. “Busy, as usual. Work, school runs, helping Molly with her homework. It’s never a dull moment,” you said with a soft chuckle. “How about you? I already know that teaching a bunch of energetic kids must be quite the challenge.” The corners of your mouth turned up, as you gave him a small smile.

Remus laughed, a rich, warm sound that made you feel more at ease. “Oh, definitely. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Every day is different, and the kids have such unique personalities. Plus, they keep me on my toes, so I’m definitely not bored.” He chuckled, and you noticed that his eyes wrinkled.

It was cute.

The waitress returned with your coffees, and you both took a moment to savor the first sips. The rich, velvety taste of the cappuccino was exactly what you needed to calm your nerves.

“So, Molly seems really happy in your class. She talks about you quite a bit,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Does she now?” Remus replied, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. “She’s a wonderful kid. Very bright and kind-hearted, it’s good that she talks a lot too. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He took a small sip of his hot coffee while not taking his eyes off of yours.

A surge of warmth spread through you at his compliment. “Thank you. She’s my world. I want to be the best for her.” Your shy smile filled his stomach with butterflies.

The conversation flowed easily after that, touching on various topics. Remus shared amusing stories about his childhood, growing up with a love for books and nature, and how he eventually found his calling in teaching. You found yourself drawn to his passion and sincerity. He, in turn, seemed genuinely interested in your life, asking questions about your work and about your experiences raising Molly. The more you talked, the more relaxed and connected you felt. It was as if all the years of guarding your heart had melted away in the presence of this kind, thoughtful man he was.

“And what about hobbies?” Remus asked, leaning forward a bit. “Do you have any time for yourself with such a busy schedule?” He gave you a smirk.

You laughed softly, a sound that came easier now. “Not as much as I’d like, but I try to carve out some time. I love reading, mostly when Molly’s asleep. And I enjoy baking. It’s therapeutic.”

“Oh, baking!” Remus exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm. “What’s your specialty?”

“Cookies, mostly. Molly loves helping me, and it’s always fun for her. Plus, they make the house smell amazing,” you replied, a hint of pride in your voice.

“I’d love to try them sometime,” Remus said, his eyes twinkling with interest. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Well, if you play your cards right,” you said with a playful smile, “I might just bring you a batch.”

The light-hearted banter continued, and you began to feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. Remus wasn’t just a charming man; he was genuinely considerate, compassionate, and someone who seemed to understand the complexities of your life without you having to explain every detail.

As the conversation naturally ebbed and flowed, you found yourself sharing stories and laughter more freely, almost forgetting the initial nervousness that had gripped you at the start. There was a connection growing, a gentle intertwining of shared experiences and mutual respect.

At one point, the topic shifted to music, and Remus's eyes lit up as he talked about his love for old records and vinyl collections. “There’s something about the sound quality of a record,” he said, his hands animated as he spoke, “It's like it captures the soul of the music.”

You nodded, feeling a similar passion. “I completely agree. My dad used to have a huge collection. We spent many Sundays together, listening to everything from classic rock to jazz. Those are some of my favorite memories.” You smiled at the memory of your dad playing his favourite records after work.

Remus leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “We should have a listening session sometime. I have a small collection myself. Maybe we can trade favorites?”

The idea filled you with warmth. Spending more time in Remus’s company felt like peeling away layers of guardedness you’d wrapped yourself in for so long. “That sounds wonderful,” you replied. “I’d like that a lot.” You chuckled.

As the hours passed, the café began to fill up with the evening crowd, but it felt like you and Remus were in your own little world. Eventually, you noticed the time and realized how late it had gotten. Neither of you wanted the night to end, but you knew you had responsibilities waiting at home.

“I should probably get going.” said reluctantly, glancing at your watch. “My friend stayed with Molly, and the time flowed so quickly.” You looked out the window, and the sun was already setting.

Remus’s expression softened with understanding, though there was a glint of disappointment in his eyes. “Of course. I didn’t noticed too, to be honest.” He quickly gathered up your things and payed the waitress, both of you standing up from the table. As you gathered your things, Remus walked with you to the door, holding it open for you like a perfect gentleman. The sun had set by now, and the evening air was crisp and cool. Streetlights cast a warm glow on the cobblestone paths as you stepped outside.

You reached for your coat, pulling it tighter around your frame as a gentle breeze blew. The evening air was cool and crisp, the gentle whisper of the wind cutting through the night. The streetlights on either side of the cobblestone path cast warm, gold-hued light.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” Remus stopped you by gently tugging your arm, a hopeful note in his voice. “I’d like to make sure you get there safely.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you considered his words. The thought of spending more time with him appealed to you, and you were touched by his concern for your safety. After a brief pause, you responded, "Yeah, sure. If you’d like me to." It was something you weren’t accustomed to experiencing.

Remus and you continued your walk through the peaceful streets as night fully set in. Darkness enveloped you both, but he’s company provided an unexpected comfort, his low voice and soft laughs acting like a soothing balm, diminishing any lingering worry. As you strolled together, your hands hovered close to each other, occasionally brushing against one another, creating a silent connection between you two.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Remus said, glancing sideways at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this.” He confessed

“What, going on a date? ,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. The thought of him enjoying your company warmed you from the inside out. “ I haven’t done something like this in years, to be honest. Not sure you’d beat me.” You joked.

Remus looked down at you, a small smile on his lips. "Come on, that's not true," he said, his voice soft and low. "You're way too gorgeous to be on your own all the time.” His words came out in a whisper, a gentle declaration that held a hint of a hidden confession.

A hot flush crawled up your face as he spoke, you found yourself unable to control the smile that spread across your lips. Hoping he wouldn't notice your reaction, you quickly turned your head away, averting your gaze to hide your delighted expression.

Your heart fluttered as he nudged gently into your side, coaxing you to look at him. As soon as you raised your gaze to meet his, you noticed something different in his eyes. There was an undertone in his expression, something that revealed more than just friendly interest.

Remus leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper, meant for your ears only. He looked at you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke, his words low and serious. "I mean it," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "You really are beautiful, Y/N. You're incredible."

The conversation drifted into comfortable silence as you strolled, each step bringing you closer to your home and to a moment that both of you felt was inevitable. Remus’s mind whirled with thoughts and emotions. He had been drawn to you the moment he first saw you, but now, having shared this evening with you, he realized it was more than a fleeting attraction. There was something genuine between you two, something worth exploring.

As you approached your house, you could feel a mixture of warmth and nervous energy building up. When you finally reached your front door, you turned to face Remus, the porch light casting a soft glow over you both.

“Thank you for tonight, Remus,” you said, feeling shy but happy. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too.” he replied, taking a small step closer. The space between you seemed to shrink, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “I—well, I wanted to say something…”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and curious. The moment felt charged, as though the world had paused around you, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of anticipation.

Remus cleared his throat, his nerves getting the better of him for a brief moment. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N, and I hope we can do this again sometime.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that very much, Remus.”

He took a deep breath, feeling a surge of courage. This was the moment he had been wanting all evening. As he stepped closer, his hand reached up gently to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. The touch was tender, sending a shiver through you.

“Y/N, can I…” he trailed off, not quite finishing his sentence, his eyes locking with yours, full of unspoken questions and palpable sincerity.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slightly, giving him permission without words. Remus leaned in slowly, his hesitation clear as he tried to gauge your comfort. But instead of kissing your lips, which he so desperately wanted to do, he decided to start with something softer, something gentle.

His lips brushed against your cheek, a feather-light touch that held all the sweetness and warmth he felt. The kiss was brief but meaningful, lingering in its own delicate way. When he pulled back, you saw that his cheeks were tinged with a faint blush, his eyes searching yours, hoping for a positive reaction.

You felt a warmth spread through you and your heartbeat quickened. That simple, tender kiss had somehow meant so much more. You shyly averted your gaze for a moment, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Thank you, again, it was the best night I’ve had in a while” you whispered, your voice filled with genuine appreciation and a hint of bashfulness. “And that was really sweet of you.” You glanced at your boots.

There was a visible tension in Remus’s body before he let out a long breath, his relief showing in the wide smile on his lips. "I wouldn’t have had it any other way, dove.” he confessed, a warm, affectionate smile lighting up his features, but the nickname that rolled off his tongue, stirred something inside you. It was a feeling you thought you hadn't experienced for the longest time. His voice, his presence, and the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, causing your knees to almost give out beneath you.

You stood there for another moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the evening. Finally, you took a small step back towards your door. “I should get inside. Molly’s probably waiting for me.”

Remus nodded, though he looked reluctant to see you go. “Of course. Have a good night, you two. And thank you for tonight, it was wonderful to get to know you.”

You returned his smile, warmth and contentment spreading through you as you unlocked your door. “Good night, Remus. Take care.”

With that, you stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you. The house was quiet save for the soft sounds of the night outside. As you leaned against the door for a moment, replaying the evening in your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotion. The walls you had carefully built around your heart felt just a little less imposing tonight.

You sighed contently, then moved towards Molly’s room to check on her. Finding her sound asleep, curled up with her favorite stuffed animal, brought a smile to your face. You gently stroked her hair, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. The peace you felt in that moment was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

part four

taglist:

@idohknow @ahead-fullofdreams @spirit-of-the-hollow @aheadfullofsteverogers

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Lens Flare

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.

Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.

Word Count: 8502

A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!

This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.

You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.

Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible. 

At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.

It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective. 

But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.

It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.

It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind. 

Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?

You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.

Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex. 

But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.

A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.

Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.

Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.

When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement.  You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island. 

Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.

You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.

As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.

“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”

She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.

When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.

Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.

God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.

It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.

“Hi.” 

It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.

The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.

“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”

You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.

“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”

“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”

You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.” 

“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”

“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.

“Ames, while I run point with the admirals,  you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”

Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.

Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.

The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.

It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”

The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.

“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”

Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”

 You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.

“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”

“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?” 

You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”

You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.

“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”

You grab her arm before she can march away.

“I can’t, Natasha.”

You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.

“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”

His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.

“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.” 

“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”

His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.

“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”

His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.

“How do you know what I want?”

Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.

“Because you're looking at me like this.”

Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.

Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.

“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.

“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”

His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”

If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.

“I…” 

You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.

“What was that about, huh?”

You just glare in response.

“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.” 

Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.

“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”

“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake? 

“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”

You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.

“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”

You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.

“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…” 

To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”

“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”

He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”

Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is. 

“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.

“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”

You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice. 

“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.” 

Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”

“Would it have mattered if I did?” 

He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.

“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. ��Knowing the decision you made?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.

“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”

You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back. 

“You want me just as much.” 

Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.

You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms. 

“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”

“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.

When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.

It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.

Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.

For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.

Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.

“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”

You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.

“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.

“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”

“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.

Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.

“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.

Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.

“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.

“I’ve got you baby.” 

His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.

“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?” 

There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.

“Just a couple of days ago.”

His chuckle makes you pout. 

“And how did you cum?”

He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”

When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.

“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”

“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”

You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars. 

“Please, please, please.” 

You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.

“Missed you, Jay.” 

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet. 

It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more. 

The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.

“It's pathetic, isn't it?”  You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.

“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”

“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”

He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.” 

Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.

“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”

You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.

“I was okay with my reality.”

When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.

You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.

“Are you okay, Shutterbug?” 

You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.

“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.

“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”

“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”

You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you. 

“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”

“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”

Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.

“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”

“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”

You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, you will be.”

You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @a-reader-and-a-writer @hookslove1592 @mshistorylover @hangmanssunnies @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

Gilded by @charmingwillow

Beneath her jumper, her heart was fluttering fast. Her free hand rubbed at the spot, willing it to calm. Her eyes ached from all the nights she spent awake, unable to sleep because it hadn’t calmed in days. Weeks.

She knew why; beneath her fingertips, under the soft cotton of her sweater, her skin tingled. She knew without seeing that the spot above her heart sparkled faintly with gold, like stars spinning in the cosmos. Scattered and dancing around a name that wouldn't quite focus. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Someone, somewhere, was falling in love with her. They were close enough that Lily could feel a tug of alignment if she concentrated enough.

Or, Lily and James go on a walk in the forest.

Sunshine in My Eyes (requires an ao3 account) by monroeslittle

Mr. and Mrs. Evans are killed when Lily's only a girl, and she's supposed to go to a home with her sister. Instead, a relative they didn't know they had comes to collect them, and introduces Lily to manners, magic, and a life that's just the slightest bit different from the life she was supposed to live.

Or, an AU in which Minerva McGonagall raises Lily.

Dying Fires by @jamesunderwater

In fifth year, James attempts to comfort Lily by a dying fire - but finds this will require restraint on his part in a number of ways.

Their tentative, developing friendship is something so special to me

basic maths by @gigglesandfreckles-hp

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

Blue Jay by @neurowriter14

In a world with magic, the only thing that really took Lily by surprise, and trepidation, was the fact that she had a soulmate.

All That's Known by @women-inthe-sequel

Wizards view nearly everything as a problem for magic to fix. Other people might view him that way, but James has never felt broken. He doesn’t need to be wound like an old-fashion toy and programmed to do what everyone else does.

I am in desperate need of more deaf!James (or deaf!Lily). Please can someone recommend me fics

just like a tattoo by sleepygirl0305 (on ao3)

Shortly after he witnesses Remus and Sirius realize that they're soulmates, James gets his own soulmate tattoo. A fairly inconvenient time, given that there is a war going on. And N.E.W.Ts. But no matter, he was going to try anyway.

A Happy Thought by @thelighthousestale

The 7th year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class learns the Patronus Charm.

James is shocked to learn what Lily's Patronus is.

I know that this is a very cliché trope but I'm a sucker for patronus fics.

The Boy (in the bedroom) Next Door by @eastwindmlk

Lily Evans has to move in with her new potion's teacher to finish her apprenticeship. There is one small issue, said teacher? Fleamont Potter, father of infinitely annoying and frustratingly fit former rival James Potter. Who she has not seen after leaving Hogwarts after her third year.

Put on Bed Rest also by @/ eastwindmlk

Hogwarts is covered in snow and James Potter is sick. Who better than Lily to nurse him back to health.

May Moon by Elynn (on ao3)

May Moon- also known as the Flower Moon or Blooming Moon, due to the abundance of flowers that occur as spring arrives.

She glanced up, catching sight of Mary and Marlene in the crowd of unsorted first years, the both of them bouncing on their toes as a new student was called up. She’d already made two friends (she hoped) and Lily was always a bit of an overachiever. “Hiya,” she said, doing her best to sound upbeat. The boy—Lupin—looked up at her, face a bit shocked. “I’m Lily.”

or sixth year, a bad pick-up line, and a secret.

Not really a jily fic (it's pre-relationship) but I really wanted to include it in this rec list

Accidental Magic by @missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Hell Is Empty (And All The Devils Are Here) by @nodirectionhome-ao3

When an Order mission takes an unexpected turn, James and Lily find themselves stranded together. In the aftermath of the chaos, sheltering together through the storm, a fire catches between them.

Ignore the fact that I can't remember if I've recommended this fic or not. Regardless, the back-and-forth between James and Lily is so good in this fic.

Starlight by @suzyq31

Under the cover of stars, Lily and James go out in search of an elusive flower. The northern lights make Lily contemplate how plans change.

The next few fics are all by @apalapucian because I may or may not have been stalking her ao3 page. Everything, and I mean everything, Jayne writes is incredible.

maybe it was egos swinging (maybe it was her)

James starts rolling his shoulders, wincing. "Jesus, Evans." "back at ya," says Lily, testing her wrists. "ever heard of taking it easy?" "with you? never." "can’t believe you’d use confringo on me." "knew you'd block it," he says. "can’t believe you’d use depulso." she shrugs, grinning. "knew you'd block it."

(or: seventh-year, auror-aspirant, academic rivals, head boy and head girl James and Lily.)

I still can't get over the fact that Jayne wrote me over 11 thousand words of academic rivals jily. ELEVEN THOUSAND WORDS OF ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS JILY!! The banter, the stakes, I love everything about this fic

calliope calling

in which:

James wields a wand for the first time; Lily giggles, tracing an impossible dancing deer in the sky; Sirius slams the door; Peter sighs; and Remus screams, raw and screeching and piercingly young.

(or: the marauders and lily evans as children, and something about invisible strings glinting in the moonlight.)

green light

There are yellow roses on the kitchen table. a cup of coffee charmed to keep warm for a time. a scrawled "morning! :) –James & Harry" on a scrap of paper, the torn bottom of a receipt for... milk, she finds. and strawberries. harry was signed by Harry himself, and Lily wants to cry at the shaky strokes, the crooked lines. she can hear them in the other room where James' window seat project is almost finished. harry is laughing. he asks questions, mocks his dad's shabby handiwork, drops the things he's asked to hand.

roses and handwritten notes and coffee and giggles nearby. this is her life now. she skims the flowers, the sun itself in her heart.

or: the war is over. everybody lives AU. (well, not everybody everybody, but the potter family + sirius + remus + even peter* live.) old fic rewrite.

* = you'll see.

bad day wall

Lily calls it the bad day wall. it's like this weird communal one-liner diary thing.

every time i think i'm over her something happens and it hits me just as stupidly intense as all the other times. i'm SICK of it

why can't people just LIKE by default the people they LOVE? why do they have to be separate feelings? it would make things so much less complicated

or: in sixth year, Lily starts talking to a stranger(?) through messages on a wall. she also befriends James Potter. These two things are completely not related.

I haven't read this one but it on my marked for later

[mrsshabana]

𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, fluff, school au ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1k words. Got this idea from this amazing art piece I reblogged earlier today ♡

You don't belong here. Girls like you would never be caught dead in detention. With your cute pleated skirt, pastel colored cardigan, and animal plush keychains that hang from your backpack.

Now a guy like him, this is where he finds himself most afternoons. At this point Gyutaro is in detention more often than he's in class. Probably the most intimidating guy in school. If his towering height and sour attitude aren't enough to deter you, then his attire will do the trick. Always decked out in heavy punk fashion. He wears combat boots, ripped jeans, leather jackets, spiked bracelets, and not to mention copious amounts of piercings.

It's almost comical seeing the contrast as you sit next to him in detention.

The sweet scent wafting from you immediately hits his nostrils. Cupcakes...? he thinks to himself.

With a sigh Gyutaro leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and stretching out his long legs. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching curiously as you fold your arms and lay your head down.

He looks around the room, noticing the teacher sitting at a desk in the front of the classroom. This teacher always supervises the students in detention, and without fail, he falls asleep after ten minutes or so. Gyutaro can never seem to remember the teacher's name. He only remembers him because of the giant lump he has on his forehead.

Once the teacher falls asleep, Gyutaro reaches over to his backpack and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and a half-broken pencil.

"Pst," you hear a raspy voice whisper as someone nudges your arm. You slowly open your eyes to see a large hand with black painted nails holding a small piece of paper.

"Hm...?" you hum as you take the note.

The tall boy dressed in black who sits beside you quirks a pierced brow, waiting for you to open it.

Unfolding the small piece of paper you see something scrawled in messy handwriting, "What u do 2 get stuck in here?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, detention suddenly got a bit more exciting.

You pull out a Hello Kitty mechanical pencil and write, "I refused to change my skirt."

Somewhat ashamed, you hand the note back over to the boy. He quickly opens it and frowns upon reading the sentence inside. Unashamed, he immediately looks down at your skirt.

"Looks fine 2 me," he writes back.

"They said it was too short and a distraction," you blush as you admit this to him. It took a lot of courage for you to wear this skirt. Expressing yourself through your clothes has always been something you were afraid to do, always worried that people may judge you or give you disgusted looks. And when you finally got the courage to wear something you actually liked, you get shamed for it.

He scoffs and scribbles back, "They tripping. Its not 2 short. Its cute. Wear whtvr the fuck u want."

"Thanks. I think I will :3" his comment gives you some of that confidence back. He's right, you shouldn't feel ashamed about what you choose to wear and how you choose to express yourself. Besides, look at him. His outfit is probably breaking a few rules and he doesn't seem to care at all.

"Its badass u stood up for yourself cupcake."

You smile when you receive the note and read the nickname he gave you, "Cupcake?"

"Yeah. U smell like em." He scribbles a drawing of a cupcake below his sentence.

"Thanks!" you draw a little cat eating the cupcake.

In return, Gyutaro draws a spikey collar around the cat's neck and gives it a little mohawk. Seeing the cute drawing you can't help but giggle.

You briefly make eye contact, and Gyutaro has a shy smile on his face.

"Wanna get outta here?" he leans over and whispers to you, "Old man's asleep, he won't notice."

Looking over at the teacher you see him slumped over the desk, a dribble of drool dripping down his lip.

"Won't we get in trouble?" you whisper, worried about getting in even more trouble.

"Who cares, you're a bad kid now." With a smirk, Gyutaro quietly slings his backpack over his shoulder and stands to leave. When he sees you hesitate to follow him, he takes your backpack and walks out the door.

"Hey!" You whisper, internally panicking as you watch him casually leave the room with your belongings. You have no choice but to follow him now.

Even though your inner voice is telling you not to, you slip out of your seat and tip-toe toward the door. Outside you see Gyutaro leaning against the wall with your backpack in hand.

"I can't believe you did that!" you pout with a flustered face as you snatch your backpack from him.

He chuckles, "Tsk I did you a favor. Besides, it feels good right?"

"What?"

"To break the rules," he smirks, looking down at you.

You blush and look away, trying to hide your flustered expression, "kinda..."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he begins to walk down the hall knowing that you'll follow him without asking. And of course, you do just that.

"So, you got a name or you just want me to keep callin' you cupcake? I'm gonna keep sayin' it either way though," he chuckles.

"My name is Y/N... but I don't mind if you call me cupcake I guess," you mumble that last part under your breath, "What's your name by the way?"

"Gyutaro," he says. The piercings under his lip contort as he smiles.

"Well," you look up at him, "I hope we get detention together again someday."

"Oh we will, cuz I'm gonna teach you to rebel just like me!"