#i learned my lesson this time for SURE!!!!!

[redcherrykook]

𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙯𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙨 2!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode two!

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

"You´re early" he grumbles, surprised at the figure stood in the empty classroom. At 8;30 am, 15 minutes before class, it is only natural for the hall to be empty. So it was only you standing there, dressed neatly, seemingly looking put together.

But Jungkook knew better. He didn´t even have to linger his penetrating gaze on the face of yours long to notice the exhaustion painted on your features.

As always, he turns a blind eye.

Everyone gets tired sometimes.

You nod, "I know, kind of did that on purpose" Standing there while opening your bag, you begin setting your books on the table. A rose colored journal slips out, landing perfectly on top of the books needed for his class. You had woken up early today, determined to not come late for a sixth time. Determined to try and keep up that yes, it was just an accident. Nothing more, no conspiracies.

The wind whispers from the open window, slipping in the fresh morning air, waving your hair with it in a swift but gentle swish.

nonetheless, he notices,

"Close the window, it is getting cold" he sits down at his desk, folding down the sleeves of his grey button down that so delicately revealed his strong form.

So you comply, shutting the air outside of the class.

"Thank you" the sound of two very simple, very common words catch you off guard. With a lean on the window behind you, your gaze shifts to the tall teacher propped up on his desk. Your mouth opens slightly to formulate a response but, cannot seem to gather what to say. Although in every other situation, it´s simple. You´re welcome.

"Calm down, I just thanked you. My god if you´re gonna react like this to every time i comply to that stupid deal of ours I´m gonna be sick" his arms cross in front of his chest, annoyed. Of course.

"I won´t, don´t flatter yourself" you shake your head slightly, moving to sit down at your desk. Certainly the conversation had been closed now. At this point, you did not expect him to engage in your bickering, soon the room would be filled with students.

However, you find out you were wrong,

"How are the injuries. Never asked about that" he´s not even looking at you when muttering a question you weren´t even sure was genuine. His eyes examining the laptop in front of him, much more engaged in the importance of his own tasks.

But Jungkook was not one to speak for filling a room simply to escape silence.

The urge to make fun of him for showing concern is lingering at the tip of your tongue, nevertheless, you bite down.

"Fine. Medium grade contusion on my right hip and lots of nasty bruises" you allow your eyes to wander along his features, letting yourself smile just a bit, hoping he would grand you a look.

"Good. Heal up quickly, you really aren´t in dire need for more absences after all"

His eyes leave the screen momentarily, glancing at you from behind his large squared glasses.

"Trying to. Thanks" your eyes meet for the split of a second before he returns to his priorities.

Just as the next student walks in.

"Good morning mr Jeon" he greets, receiving a nod from Jungkook in return.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"When is this gonna end", you mumble to yourself as you turn yet another page of given material. Yawning and stretching your arms up, you glance at the small numbers on the bottom right of your laptop that has been opened in front of you for what must have been 6 hours now.

9:45 pm already?

The schools library is most quiet at this time. The deafening, still comforting silence only breaks when the crashing of ice inside your drink or hushed words from your monologues make their way into the large study.

Most likely because the college library is already closed and you weren´t supposed to be here either. It´s not like you have ever been caught or are disturbing someone. Even the cleaning staff have become familiar with the long hours you spend sitting put at one of many desks inside the library. Admirable, they call it. In reality, this is as usual as it can get for you.

Only this time, things are different. You will be here the entire night, not just because you forgot how quickly time passes and suddenly the small rays of the morning sun kiss your hands,

It is out of necessity. For possibly the following nights as well. Until you find a new shelter that is willing to take in a runaway college student.

For a couple seconds you wonder how long it will take to find a one bedroom apartment you can afford with the below minimum wage tutoring job of yours. Working part time is impossible since ambitious, home having first year you decided to pack every possible class you could take right in your schedule.

One of the many things you regret.

A set of loud footsteps sound closer than the cleaning personal has ever been, ripping you right out the dream of a small, well decorated apartment. Mentally you groan, wondering if the day you had to be caught, really needed to be the day you would otherwise have to sleep on a park bench.

When the darkly colored wooden doors open to reveal who is roaming the hallways at a time you should be getting ready for bed, you simply can not believe your luck.

"Y/n?" the stern voice can never be mistaken for someone else, his eyes widening as he steps inside to approach your desk.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" obviously rhetorical he asks, swiftly pulling out the chair to your left and sitting down on it casually.

"I need to study. I´m not doing something wrong i swear, even the staff is fine with it, I just have so much work to do" in an attempt to rescue your chance at a warm sleep, you hurriedly let out every explanations that come to mind.

His eyes look down to your face when he slightly tilts his head back, his hand is now carefully placed on the table, tapping it rhythmically with his long and artful fingers.

I´m doomed.

"Interesting. Try doing that work when the library isn´t closed. Get up, you´re breaking the rules" the same hand that was tapping away motions upward to signal you; no really, get the fuck up.

Like the troublemaker you are, you stay put on your chair

"I can´t, I gotta get this done"

A familiar scoff escapes his lips "You cant be serious. I wasn´t asking. I said get up idiot"

"Jungkook please I really can´t" you plea with him pathetically. The way you must sound or look to him right now is far from your concern, what matters is the need to convince him.

His frustration is painted on his face so visibly you would be able to spot it from a mile away. Instead of you, he gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Your eyebrows meet to express your utter confusion,

"What are you doing"

Jungkook´s eyes move over to yours, deadpanned as if you asked him the color of the sky, he looks at you.

"Calling the cops obviously. You´re Trespassing"

Your head shakes quickly as you repeat the words no,no,no,no,no while standing up and trying to get him to stop dialing. He takes a step back and groans, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Finally, leave now. I´ll come with you to make sure you actually leave and don´t try break in again"

"You're so annoying, model citizen over here"

"Thanks. You too" he grants you a fake smile before rolling his eyes so far back he would sure be able to see his brain.

You sigh, aware that any protest is useless or you might end up sleeping at the police station.

Gathering your things and already listing the possible parks and convenience stores you would need to pass time, sleep and study at in your head. Accepting the upcoming hardship you remember his words

Cruel world

A breathy laugh escapes your mouth at the memory.

"I can´t believe you were about to call the damn police on me" you turn to him while walking behind him and out the university. It´s pitch dark outside and you can barely make out any street signs.

"Well i believe in following the law. What way do you need to go?" his movements stop when he asked you that, waiting for a reply so he could make sure you were walking off in the right direction.

But, he was met with silence. You had no idea where to go and the freezing air combined with scarily dark surroundings had just made you register your situation. Where were you going to go?

Annoyed at the non response, he turns to look at you, expecting a pissed off stare or a blank look. He did not await you to look down with a frown of worry. Your head cocks slightly to the side, muttering "I don´t know yet"

Obviously, he doesn´t understand your reply. What could you possibly mean when saying you didn´t know where you lived.

That is until he remembered you living in a shelter.

She must be new there and had forgotten the address, careless as always.

"The hell am I supposed to get from that? Forgot your own goddamn address?" his hand rubs along his forehead, the tension between the both of you is as thick as the air around. Contradictory from his actions, his voice quiets down just a bit.

You decide to stay silent once more, debating if it would be worth telling him what is really going on. After the hospital situation you should be, you should be honest and try to let the deal actually work. Truth be told, the fear of being let down and belittled is much stronger at the moment.

Before you can open up your mouth to whip up a shitty excuse, he speaks again.

"Y/n, is there somewhere you can go?"

Jungkook could swear his heart drops to his stomach when he lets out these words, awaiting your reply patiently.

The question suffocates you, caught red handed you shake your head no, looking up to meet his concerned eyes. It was no use lying to him, he would be checking the library each and everyday, that would mean that you really had to spend multiple nights outside.

He lets out a sigh, placing both his hands on his hips.

"Why the fuck didn´t you tell me?"

"Seriously? I thought you were not gonna believe me and end up actually calling the cops, no thank you" your voice sounding almost unfamiliar after not speaking for a while.

"Sound like me can't even lie. Let's get back inside then" Jungkook says without waiting for your opinion, simply strutting back into the library. You can´t help but grin slightly at his abrubt nature. He goes back to sitting down at the very desk you were forced to leave 25 minutes ago.

"You´re gonna let me stay here?" the hopeful question makes his head shoot up from looking at the floor as he chuckles.

"No you smartass, that´s still illegal, and I´m still a law-abiding citizen. I´ll call around shelters and hotels with you, i guess"

Thanking whatever power rules this world at the tiniest amount of help you can get from Jungkook, you smile,

Meanwhile he is internally cussing himself out for being nice too quickly

"Thank you, seriously, didn´t think you would actually try and hold up your word"

"Didn´t you say you would not have this embarrassing reaction every time? Shut up before I change my mind" his eyes roll back to signal that he meant every word he said. Yours do too, to signal him that he is still an asshole.

His phone as well as yours end up getting taken out, spending the first fifteen minutes calling help centers and looking for cheap hotels

Unsuccessful at attempting to find an opening, you tell him that was expected since you were on basically every single waiting list you could register to.

"So help centers and shelters are off the list. Then let´s find you a decent hotel or something" he yawns, the inevitable need for sleep reaching him as the night deepens. You feel sorry for bounding him into your own personal mess, although it isn´t really your fault. He´s the one so addiment on not letting you stay at the library.

"Absolutely not. I really cannot afford that, I don´t even know for how long I would have to stay there, it´s too uncertain" your head meets the palm of your hand, closing your eyes while sighing at this stupidly vulnerable situation.

It must be past 11 pm already.

"I´ll lend you some money, just pay be back eventually"

"Fuck no" you laugh "That might take me years, and I´m far from comfortable with owing money"

Jungkook knows he can´t force you to, still provocatively he asks,

"What are your options then ?"

You open your mouth in disbelief, the obvious option being the room you are having the conversation in, "Just let me stay at the goddamn library, it´s safe and I don´t need to pay"

"It´s against the law and it is for more than one night" he remains sternly on his arguments

"Who gives a fuck about the law , will you seriously do anything to make me sleep on the streets Jungkook"

Your voice turns into somewhat of a yell, spitting out the frustration you feel towards this childish behaviour. Both of you are tired out of this hassle and want nothing more than to get some rest and peace of mind.

His eyes stay glaring, while his voice turns bitter, "You´re so stubborn, all that I´ve been trying to do is help you not sleep on a fucking bench you idiot. My god get that through the thick skull of yours. You think I´m gonna sleep well knowing one of my students, injured student at that, is spending the night on the streets?"

In all honesty, you knew he was correct. No one would sleep well knowing an acquaintance is in a dangerous spot and yeah, he had spend the past fourty minutes in your vicinity, the past 20 minutes trying to help and figure you out.

The night moves another ten minutes in silence, branches hitting the broad windows that are framing the lecture hall as the sighs of sleep deprivation and sorrow leave his lips.

You were begining to wonder how this would play out, assuming he would just sit there with you in silence until the sun came up.

But what then?

The guilt of keeping him entangled in your mess only continues to feed itself with each wordless minute that passes, you decide to tell him to go home, you would just figure it out yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had thought up something of his own,

"Stay at my apartment then. I have a guest room. We´ll get you something tomorrow and never speak about this again"

Nothing could have prepared you from the sentence that just left his lips. What is even worse about this, is how carelessly he said it, like a passing comment. Even when he basically suggested something comparable to running to the end of the rainbow for a goldpot.

"WHAT" you can´t help it, it just comes shooting out at the complete buffoonery of this situation, that somehow keeps happening with him.

He chuckled briefly at your outburst before combing through his raven hair, his eyes never changing from the standard glare

"Look, it´s fucking close to midnight, I need sleep and you need somewhere to sleep so I will be able to actually go to sleep"

His explanation is as self centered as you had awaited it to be,that does not take away from the fact that your teacher asked you to stay the night as his place.

"I- I can´t believe you would rather i sleep in your apartment than the library. No thank you, I´m taking the bench" your head shakes violently as your face turns from surprise to cringing at the idea.

There is no way in hell you would spend the night at your teachers house

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Okay, maybe i lied.

"Turn off the damn radio and- god fasten your seatbelt for fucks sake" Jungkook groans over to you in the passenger seat of his car.

It feels like a parade of clowns are banging on your door by the second you sat down into the black hyundai. Laughing at you like you were the circus performer, not them.

Somehow, he had managed to persuade you into taking up his offer. It is only for a couple hours after all, only to pass the night. So now, he´s bitching to you about something from the drivers seat, 8 minutes past midnight.

Ridiculous, so fucking annoying already. He thinks while reaching over your torso to loosen the seatbelt that is stuck behind the carseat.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, his arm grazing over yours for a millisecond when he reaches over.

Too close.

So close you can smell the cotton scented shampoo he uses, so close you could count the moles on his arms.

You haven´t spoken a word to him since agreeing on his offer and you don´t plan to. Originally, to lessen the awkwardness of everything, now, unsure if that made everything even more awkward.

Even your attempt to lighten the mood with the radio playing got rudely rejected by him.

What a long night it has been.

The drive is short, twelve minutes void of conversation and barely lit streets. Jungkook´s eyes don´t avert the road once, his stare never creeps it´s way over to check if you were still breathing. Given by the quiet as a mouse attitude of yours, it would certainly be a possibility.

Apart from the engine rumbling and the tires rolling on the concrete roads, you noticed his habit to hum whenever the traffic lights would turn green. He also only uses his right arm to drive, keeping his left pressed flat on his thigh.

Endearing, kind of.

Once parked in front of a small apartment complex, he gets out with you and your trusty backpack following right behind. The car locks as he enters the complex, then the elevator.

"Did you loose your voice or are you purposefully getting on my nerves" his tired speech cuts through the thick air,

finally

"Just don´t really know what to say. This is all so strange" you reply, trying to sound non-chalant when the hammering of your nervous heartbeat is so far up your throat, you might actually be sick.

"it is" he says, stepping outside of the elevator and rustling his keys to unlock the door, as if it is not his fault you guys ended up like this.

When the door opens, you are greeted with a white, dimly lit hallway. He takes off his shoes first before you repeat the action and walks into, what you would assume, the livingroom. The apartment is far from the cold and empty modernity you had expected. It´s quite cozy, small but filled with photography and paintings. The apartment generally smells just like him, cotton, a hint of wood and leather.

There are four doors around, one that is open clearly leading to the kitchen, two that are across from each other and one at the very back.

"Sit down on the couch, don´t stand there so awkwardly"

His suggestion is once again, more of a demand that you, as usual, comply to. Jungkook doesn´t try to show you around, skipping all the weird hosting formalities, except for one.

He sits down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance between both of your bodies

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Water would be good, yeah" the reply sounds painfully forced in an effort to keep the small talk and get to sleep as soon as possible.

The thought of having to face him the next morning made you want to rip your hair out, to try and distract yourself you look around the open space, taking in the beautiful pictures hung up around.

Once he sets the glass of water down you accept it gladly, drinking from it in another attempt to conceal the uncomfortable situation.

"Did you take these?" curiously you point to a collage above the coffetable in the corner of the room. It´s a collection of damp flowers and pretty fields, the color scheme is white and lavender.

It suits him, you think

"Mhm, took em´ four years ago" his voice echos through the walls of his home, following your stare directed at the collage.

"So photography can be pretty, maybe I´m really just talentless" you scoff, remembering the awful portfolio you handed him in.

"Yes, to both of those"

The comment seems to have softened the mood a little bit, you can physically feel your shoulders release tension.

"Jungkook?" now it is his turn to look at you, trying to guess what would follow the sound of his name out of your mouth. He can´t help but jump a bit every time it rolls off of your tongue, natural but uncomfortable at once.

"yeah?", he says

"i know you hate this but I really can not, well, not say this. Thank you for your effort. You may be an asshole but you definitely are a man of your word. You wasted way too much time and concern and fuck, even let me stay here. I owe you something" once your rant is finished, you laugh before searching his face for the scoff you usually see presented there, regardless of the situation.

Only to find it gone,

It has been replaced by a soft smile, something so foreign on his face, it made you feel a spark of joy.

"I guess that was pretty nice of me. You definitely owe me some shit. I´ll get you the sheets yeah? we need to get some rest" Without really acknowledging what you had told him, he brushes past the attempt of a heartfelt conversation. To you, he didn´t have to say anything, the smile was enough to signal,

You´re welcome.

Now you stood there, sheets in hand, trying not to look at your teacher in his guest bedroom.

While putting the sheets on the bed, he stays leaning against the doorframe, watching you blankly

"Mind if i ask, you know, what happend?"

It hadn´t occurred to you before that you never actually spoke the words i got kicked out of the shelter

"With things like shelters, women with children have, righteously so, priority over runaway college kids. That´s all" , you explain,your eyes fixated on the task before you, finally finishing it up, the satisfaction of sleep inching way closer that it is now basically in reach.

He hums in response, making you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, full glory in grey sweats and a black shirt, hair laying messily over his glasses

When did he get changed?

"So. about tomorrow then, I´m guessing you won´t be able to find something so fast" tainted by exhaustion his voice tries it´s best to sound stern, nevertheless, a yawn escaping his lips makes him feel much less distant than usual.

Maybe it's just the fact that you're in his house, but that is besids the point.

"Yeah sherlock that is why i kept trying to tell you to just let me sleep at the damn library" you roll your eyes, this is the fifth time you tried explaining that to Jungkook. As a teacher, you expected him to be a little faster than that.

"Oh my god this again? I´ll kick you out if you protest one more damn time. You can just fucking stay here until a shelter calls you back, Why are you so attached to that library"

The last part arrives to your ear fuzzily as he had already shut the door of the guest bedroom, leaving you to think for yourself with what he had just uttred

Slipped secretly between his cussing he offered you to live with him temporarily. Just like that, blatant, sudden, plain. The words ring in your head, over and over again.

You can just fucking stay here

Like it´s no big deal

Whatever

You would deal with it tomorrow, it was just a comment. Sleep is far more necessary, begging you to finally rest for the remaining couple hours of the night. Too exhausted to continue thinking,

"Good night to you as well" you yell, opening the door just a bit for him to hear, earning a groan in response.

[starlightomatic]

Saw a post about how the function of private school is to insulate rich people from the conditions that most people experience, and while I'm sure that's largely true, I wanted to surface another piece of it. I didn't want to add it to that post because it would have been an "excuse me, your post didn't account for my specific situation, I am uncomfortable when we are not about me??" addition, so I'm making my own post instead.

I attended private school as a child -- specifically, a Jewish day school. I learned Hebrew, prayers, and Jewish history. I only went through fourth grade but it provided a really solid skill basis that I've been able to build on ever since, and it's a big reason why I can so confidently navigate Jewish spaces as an adult. There's simply so much content to pass down, and twice-weekly supplemental Hebrew school lessons don't really provide enough time to transmit that much of it. I'm not saying this to gatekeep people who didn't have this experience, but rather the opposite; I wish this was available and accessible to all Jewish children.

I digress a little; the point is, while private school in general may be about rich people separating themselves off and giving themselves treatment that their wealth-hoarding denies the rest of us, there are other functions of private school as well, such as a minority group passing on important cultural and religious knowledge to its children.

And to be honest, that doesn't need to happen outside the public school system; there is actually a school in Canada that, by way of being Hebrew-immersion (because language immersion schools are a thing in that municipality), is actually a Jewish school fulfilling that same purpose. But in many places, people object to public school funding being used for religious content (and in the US I'm not even sure it's constitutional), so this model doesn't work everywhere.

Anyway, just wanted to add this piece of context to help round out how folks view private schooling.

(And side note, my private school was not particularly fancier than the public schools; half of it was in the basement of a local community building and the other half was renting space from a local synagogue. My second grade classroom was in an old, weird little outbuilding on the synagogue grounds.)

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Recently, through Twitter, I have become aware of the fact that modern American parents have been very ignorant of their parental duties when it comes to their children. Parents are banding together to complain about the schools their children attend because their kids are getting bad grades in class, or they're getting detentions for doing bad consistently, or they're being held back because they're just not at the same level as their peers.

There was an entire thread of some woman whining about how the school was failing her kid, because his English class grade was so bad. There were thousands of comments agreeing and various reposts with anecdotes from other parents with similar experiences.

"My 26 y/o son can't even write a check for God's sake!"

And one single person finally replied with, "Do you guys not teach your kids anything at home before they start going to school?" Which then spawned people with actual common sense questioning the level of involvement these people had in the lives of their kids.

This is what led to a large surge of people complaining about how it's the school's job to teach them everything and they did their job just keeping them alive.

Now, I don't want to be mean, but it's gonna come across that way.

Parents are lazy these days.

When I was a child, my Nana and mom had me learning with Hooked on Phonics before I entered pre-K. I was 3 years old and already sounding out words that rhymed. I was practicing how quickly I could say them in under 30 seconds so I could progress to the next lesson.

mat hat sat that cat vat pat bat fat lat rat brat

etc...

When I was in pre-K(4 years old), they had a single, really old computer that had a bunch of Winnie the Pooh CD-ROM games. Because I always got my work done faster than everybody else, they let me use the computer because I could actually read and follow Pooh's instructions, and it kept me busy.

And when I entered kindergarten for the first time, I was really surprised to see that Hooked on Phonics was actually part of my curriculum and I was already very well ahead of everyone else. My mom and Nana took traching me very seriously. They not only read to me, but they would also get me Madeline books and cassette tapes from the children's library downtown. And then I would listen to the cassettes telling the story while reading the book at the same time to get used to the words.

At three years old, I was helping out in the kitchen, learning all of the different kitchen utensils and types of measurement. My mom often went between English, French and American Sign Language at random times so I picked up a lot of stuff that way. We never had a computer in the house for the first 12 years of my life, but I did have an old keyboard to learn how to type. Nana gave me basic piano lessons for a couple years. Mom taught me how to hem my clothes because she would buy me bigger clothes, hem them to size, and then let them out as I grew. Hell, Sperm Donor taught me how to write a check when I was 8. He was also a Financial Adviser, so I got a lot of lessons on money management, investments, and 401Ks and shit.

All these incredibly simple things ended up benefiting me later on, because I was so far ahead of all of the other students that it consistently put me at odds with them. I was better at reading, cooking, sewing, music, languages, etc... I was allowed time to do whatever I wanted while the rest of them had to catch up.

There is a lot more to being a parent than just making sure your kid eats three meals a day and doesn't die in a stupid way. And it seems like a lot of parents these days have completely forgotten that they have a duty to their kids beyond the feeding and clothing thing.

Certain things SHOULD be taught in schools, like how to balance a checkbook. But if it's clear that the school won't cover it, why aren't YOU doing something about that? And why do so many parents have no clue what the hell their kids are even getting up to in school? Why don't y'all get involved in your kid's lives?

[kalmiaphlox]

Your Body is My Canvas

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Astarion is finally ready to learn how to swim after two centuries, and Kalmia, ever his dutiful partner, is there to teach him.

Lessons don't take all that long, it's a nice night under the stars, and Astarion fancies himself an artist. Lucky for him, Kalmia has a perfectly good body to paint on.

Main Tags: Smut, body painting - with mud AND blood, blood sucking, face sitting, PiV sex

“What's the hesitation for?”

“You're not going to drag me to the deepest part to drown me are you?”

Kalmia narrows her eyes, head just barely bobbing above the water. “You don't need to breathe.” She feels like they've had this conversation before. When has she ever betrayed his trust? “Clothes off, come on.”

With an agonized groan akin to a child throwing a fit, Astarion throws his shirt off to the forest floor, before sliding his trousers off, leaving just his undergarments. He pauses again, “What if the fish bite at me? I don't want to become their food.”

“I don't-” Would fish nibble on him since he's… (un)dead? No, no. It's fine. “You're safe with me, irthiski. I'll keep all the very scary guppies away.”

“Wretch,” he bares his fangs for a second before finally taking his first steps into the pond, the ripples from his movement lightly tickling her face. “No pranks, tricks, jokes, or gaffs. I will leave immediately if you attempt to pull one over on me.”

“I swear on my worthless honor that I won't ‘pull one over on’ you.”

“You won't let me sink?” 

The fretting… Gods above. “I'll make sure your head stays above water.”

His frown is pure disgust as he wades in deeper, the water now rising above his hips. “I hate mud.” It is exceptionally muddy out, the heavy rains plaguing the area finally gave them a reprieve, if only for a few hours so they can have this time to themselves.

“I know, my dear Princess of House Nightstar. Please bear with these horrid conditions, and if your frail body is fee-”

“I think that's enough from the peanut gallery.” 

Alright, she'll leave the poor vampire alone. “Stop there. We can try just floating for now.”

The scoff he lets out is enough to make her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Floating? ! I want to swim, not drift away like some moldy piece of wood along the current!”

“We're starting with the basics, if you can't float , then you can't swim.” She's considering just dragging him back to shore, but refrains. He's scared, and unfortunately that presents itself in cattiness, Astarion knows Kalmia is right, he just needs to fight every step of the way. Her precious kitty, he's lucky she likes the snark.

Standing up with her water-soaked shirt on, she holds her arms out in the water, nodding down at them. “Lean back here, I'll hold you up so you can get the feeling.”

“Ah, but my hair! It will be-”

“Now.”

“Ok.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, lowering himself so she can support him in the water. “Stare up at the sky, ears should be underwater,” He does as she tells him. “Good, now arch your back very slightly- Yes, just like that,” She positions a hand right at the small of his back. “And now, hold your arms out at your side and spread your legs, a bit wider than shoulder width.”

His eyebrow quirks with the ghost of a smirk, and she suppresses the very strong urge to let him go at this moment. Kalmia won't ruin this for him, Astarion is being agreeable - for him.

“You're doing great, irthiski. How does it feel?”

“Stupid.” 

She laughs quietly. “That's fair. Keep breathing steadily, I'm going to remove this hand,” Flexing the one under his back, “I'll keep the one on your shoulders, but try to stay still.”

That might be a whimper that slips through his lips, but she ignores it as she moves her hand away slowly. Astarion instantly begins to stiffen, “Don't do that, relax.”

“It feels like you're dropping me.” He spits out, seething with no actual rage.

“I told you I'd never let you go. Don't worry about it.”

That gets him to soften infinitesimally, though not enough as he jerks in the water and everything falls apart. His legs kick out, dousing them both before Kalmia shoves hips down.

“Just stand, Astarion. You can't sink here.”

He finds his footing, slapping his hair back with a sneer, pointing an accusatory finger at her chest, “You let me go!���

“When the flailing begins, it's better to stand than fall. It's not deep, but if you truly went under, I would have pulled you up.” She expects more retaliation, but Astarion's anger deflates with each word. “Let's try again, I'll hold you longer this time.”

“Fine.”

Repeating the new routine, he returns to lying back on her hands. This round goes smoother, and after a few minutes, Kalmia removes the hand from his lower back, Astarion is able to keep his cool. 

“Alright, I'm removing the hand from your head. You're doing great.” She does as she says, hovering her hand around him for the moment he inevitably flinches, but that time doesn't come.

Unfortunately, Astarion does look a bit like driftwood, Kalmia keeps her mouth clamped shut.

“So, uhm- How do I stop?” His eyes glance to hers, so shiny in the moonlight eeking out between the cloudy sky.

“Drop your legs and lean forward.” The movements are a little disjointed and he drops below the water for a moment before shooting up, spitting and coughing. Kalmia pats his back. “Are you done or would you like to try on your own?”

Retching up the last bit of water with pure drama, Astarion gathers his last piece of dignity. “Just once by myself.”

“I'll still keep my hands beneath, but I won't touch you.”

Hmm.

Kalmia's almost certain that if it weren't for his nervousness, Astarion would be fine. There's some minor adjustments he makes that make her think he retains some residual muscle memory from a time long forgotten.

They can focus on it next time though, floating on his own is good enough for now.

His last self-directed float ends and he's able to stand up without going under so he shrugs his shoulders, smug with pride. “I've always been a quick study.” Gods forbid he takes anything with a bit of grace.

“Yes, you're clearly an expert now.”

“Just you wait, I'll be swimming circles around you yet, little wyrm.”

For so many reasons, she doubts that. “I will be waiting with bated breath.”

Astarion purses his lips at her mocking, cutting through the water with just his head visible. Kalmia stares down at him when he swiftly wraps his lithe arms around her waist to rest his chin on her stomach. “This wasn't as much exercise as I was expecting, and I'm feeling a bit spritely if you wish to… indulge.” His eyes have darkened with lust as he says so and she's already beginning to feel that heat sparking within.

She runs her fingers along his pointed ear, a soft touch that he leans into. “I more than wish to, but sex this deep is an, uh, advanced technique. I don't think we're there yet.”

“There's a perfectly good pond shore behind you, I think that will work just fine for our needs.”

Well, now she's just in disbelief as she quirks an eyebrow. “You would fuck me in the mud?”

“My love, I want us to be so covered in mud that we'll have to bathe thrice.” His hands slip under the long, water-logged shirt she's wearing, gripping her hips tightly.

Kalmia holds his chin now, caressing his lower lip with her thumb, before pushing his lip up to expose a fang. “Are you going to be a dirty boy for me?” His pupils are near eclipsing the red irises as she pricks her thumb on his fang and pushes it within his mouth. He sucks gently with the quietest of moans, eyes fluttering shut briefly with ecstasy, and his fingers press into her hips with a bruising strength. Leaning down, she brushes her lips across his ear, and whispers, “Won't you defile me?”

A low growl makes its way out of his throat, “I'll make sure everyone sees how I love you.” 

Kalmia straightens and puts on a pouty voice. “I could use the reminder too, you know…”

Astarion raises up her shirt, revealing the crook of her hip to graze his fangs along the spot. “That reminder could go right here. ”

“Do it.”

His fangs sink into the flesh with his strong arms holding her so she doesn't collapse, as Kalmia almost goes limp from the feeling. There's nothing like that ice cold shock that settles into her body when he draws blood, but two long pulls is all Astarion needs before letting go, licking up the dribbles with languid ease. “Such a delicious creature, I think it's time I ruined you.”

She attempts to remove her shirt, but Astarion stops her firmly, “No, leave it on for now.” He drags her to the shore and crushes her against him in a metallic-tasting, deep kiss, before wasting no time in laying on his back, gesturing for Kalmia to get on him. “I need to prime my canvas first, sit on my face, darling.”

Oh gods, she's gonna come so hard tonight. 

Positioning herself above him, she lowers down onto her knees with Astarion guiding her by the hips. His eyes flash up at her, just barely visible. “How much more blood can I have tonight?”

Her chest is already heaving. She licks her lips, steadying her breathes. “You can have one more bite, so make it count, irthiski. ”

He hums with acknowledgement, “Other than you kneeling, do not dirty the rest of your body. That is my canvas to paint. All the way down now, my love. I'm starving.”

Now lowering herself dutifully, Astarion's cool tongue greets her slit, sliding up and down the length of it and Kalmia lets out a breathy moan. One of his hands wraps around her thigh to rock her against his hungry mouth while the other slithers up her body to palm a breast. 

He sucks in her clit only to release it with a pop that makes Kalmia's thighs quiver, she won't be able to maintain this position forever with the tongue lashing she's receiving. Her nipple is being pinched and twisted, and oh fuck Astarion has slipped his masterful tongue inside of her dripping cunt, groaning as he tastes her. Mewling wantonly as he tongue fucks her, Kalmia leans back, but not before Astarion stops his ministrations to look up at her with ravenous eyes.

“You can't come yet.” And with that, he dips back into her folds, lapping up her slick as his nose bumps against that sensitive bundle at the apex of her sex. 

Evil man, she thinks before leaning back with a hand upon his firm abdomen, feeling how they flex as he eats her out with abandon. That familiar coil of euphoria is building within and Kalmia stills her rocking, trying to subdue the high she so badly wants to chase.

Fuck her, he's latched onto her clit again, and Kalmia can't contain the beg escaping her lips, “Astarion, majak ve kutol!” When his hand leaves her tit, she quickly moves to replace it with her own, teasing a hardened peak.

His ragged voice is a purr as he nuzzles against her thigh, “You can come now.”

And he knows his words can always send her over the edge.

Her hips jerk without a rhythm as Kalmia falls forward, squeezing her legs together around Astarion's head and grasping at his hair as she fucks his face desperately. Her inner walls clench as his tongue slows its dance on her clit, whimpering when the last wave of pleasure ends.

Holy hells, he treats her so well.

Sliding back along his chest weakly, but not losing out on this chance to leave her own mark, Kalmia takes in his appearance. Astarion is grinning lasciviously, licking her spent left behind on his lips. “Gods, you're delicious. Now let me see how well you followed instructions.” Sitting up, he inspects her body, pulling the shirt over her head, running a hand down Kalmia's chest, groping and suckling on her breasts until her hardened nipples are puffy and she's yearning for more, grinding her aching cunt against his still covered shaft.

All seems to pass his test, they can- 

“Well, what's this?” Astarion is holding her hand, palm side up. “I can't trust you with anything.”

Kalmia startles, looking for the offender, “What?! Where?” 

“Right here, ” indicating a spot where a tiny bit of mud had smeared between her fingers. Who knows how it got there. “Tsk, tsk, how disappointing. Now, what shall your punishment be?”

Luck is on her side, she loves his punishments.  

Astarion brings her in for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, winding her long hair around his wrist and wrenching her head back, tonguing at the smooth skin around her neck. “I'll take my second meal now. Try not to come from it, you harlot.” 

“No promises-!” is all Kalmia manages to squeak out before his fang pierce her skin again, and he moans into her as that sweet lifeblood pours down his throat, crushing her against his chest. In a great show of wills, she doesn't come - thank the gods , but by the hells is she close as he ruts up into her with a deep swallow.

And just like the good little vampire he is, Astarion stops after two large drinks, but this time he doesn't clean up the remaining flow. When he pulls back, blood drips from his chin. “My love, you're going to fuck me with that tender love and care you do so well, and I , the artist, will paint the most beautiful figure. But,” leaning in, he nips at her lower lip. “I need an extra pop of color .” The nip turns into a sharp sting, he's cut open her lip and blood now trickles out, splattering onto their chests.

Astarion lays back, adjusting his briefs so he can wiggle out of them even with Kalmia straddling his waist, and he sighs in relief when his cock springs free beneath her. She risks a glance, her mouth watering at the sight of it - flushed with her blood , and glistening with more than just precum. “Did you come while I was on you?

“Oh gods, yes. I'd like to see you contain yourself when the most ethereal being imaginable grinds on your face.” A sweet smile appears as he takes her in while leaning back on an elbow, “Your punishment… Hmm,” he taps his bloodied mouth, the smile turning sinister, “I think, you know for a little fun, you can't touch yourself. At all while you're on top of me. Keep those little mitts away from your body.”

She takes it back, she hates his punishments. “No! Astarion, please! I want-”

“Quit your crying, lizard. Now,” He runs a finger through the drops of blood, writing out something along her collarbone. “I know an artist should sign his work once he's finished, but I shan't be letting that go to waste.”

Did he just… sign his name onto her body in her own blood?! Gods, he can own her body and soul, but she'll never say that outloud. “Hmm, the vision just isn't complete yet… Kalmia, I need you to fuck me, I can't paint under these conditions.”

Absolutely deranged. Though it's not as if she's above such things, she's just jealous he thought of this first. 

Rising up and taking his cock in hand, she places it against her entrance but Astarion's hip buck, enveloping himself within her fully. Kalmia gasps, steadying herself on his shoulder with a tight grip, “I- I thought I was supposed to fuck you- ah!” 

He cants into her once more, “You were going too slow, but that's what I get for loving a geriatric dragon.” Pulling her in for another deep kiss, tongue swiping up the spilled blood, he pulls away just as fast, lips coated in that bloody treat. “Time to begin!”

She has no idea what he's about to “paint”, but his cock’s already buried deep inside and she wants - needs to experience the decadent stretch he provides. 

Getting more dirty doesn't matter at this point, and it's not like this henich could serve up a worse punishment, so she places her hands in the mud, arching her back slightly as she slides up and down on his length. 

Astarion muzzles his groan behind tightly shut lips, his lust-filled eyes rove over her body before he nods as an idea strikes him. “I've got it!” Slapping a hand on her thigh, he drags two fingers up to her hip. When he removes it, there's a muddy handprint and two lines, which is then connected to more lines he's drawing over her hip and stomach.

She's slowed down her bouncing to take in his work, and Astarion's eyes snap to hers, “Is your old body failing you? Ride me, you beast!” As she picks up the pace again, relishing the way he hits those tender spots and the slapping of them coming together, Astarion cups one of her breasts and then circles around a nipple, the other he just crosses through. 

“What's- ah, what's wrong with that one?” Kalmia rasps out as he roughly grabs her hips, grinding her down onto him. 

“Nothing, my wyrm. It's called abstract art, I'd assume-” His words fail him as she clenches on his cock. Kalmia tilts in, and Astarion meets her with his tongue, tangling with hers. One of his hands is still working at painting her body abstractly - or distractedly, too bad they don't have a mirror, she'd love to see his work.

And they won't be able to make it home in time anyway, “It's about to rain.” She mutters against his mouth.

A growl rises from his throat and she hears his hand pound into the mud beside them. What a tem- her thoughts fall apart as Astarion shoves her backwards, landing in the shallows of the pond.

Seems he's lost interest in painting. 

He collapses into her, smashing their lips together as he plunges his cock furiously inside of her, pinching and twisting one of her nipples and swallowing the moans that slip out of her lips.

The patter of rain is heard as drops hit the water and ground beside them. His fingers have drifted to her clit, and Kalmia cries out, begging for him to finish her when he's circling the bud lazily. Astarion quickly splashes water over her chest to clear some of the mud away, “I won't take- ah! - more, but I need you to come on me!” he grits out, and she knows he's close now as his brutal pace picks up even more.

He nips once at a nipple before biting fully into the supple flesh of her breast, and this time she reaches her heavenly climax when that exhilarating prick of pain strikes down to her core, no blood is drawn this time as Astarion continues to fuck into her through his own orgasm, head tucked into her neck once he releases her tit. Thank the gods they both can't drown, he's pushed her through the mud further into the water where Kalmia could barely keep her head above it, and she clings to him as her body ebbs into the post-coital afterglow.

Astarion's pale body goes limp on top of her, pushing Kalmia all the way under and she can't help but laugh at the silliness of this whole thing, releasing bubbles of air to the surface. Realizing that she's stuck beneath, Astarion rolls off, letting her crest above the water again with a sputter, and he smiles apologetically, “You squeezed the life - well, unlife from me. I lost all strength, what magic did you use to take it from me?”

“Hag's magic, I need to stay young somehow.” Kalmia coughs out before devolving into laughter, “I think your masterpiece is all gone now!” 

“Ahh, oh well, I still have this beauty here.” He brings them together for one more kiss, and once released, Astarion runs his fingers over her lips, “Apologies for the cut, I got a little too excited.”

“That's all right, can I return the favor another time? I want to paint.”

He hums thoughtfully, “I don't see why not, but I worry your bite is much, much worse than your bark.” With a wide smile, she snaps her teeth at him, and for that slight, he splashes water onto her face, “Stay back, you pond monster!”

“Poor, irthiski, scared of a little dragon…” She giggles, but relents in her attempts to take a nibble, “You wanna float some more or head home?”

“Let's float, love. It's quite peaceful out here, even with this revolting rain.”

“Rain is clean water, it's no-”

Astarion places a finger over her mouth, “Oh, how I love when you're quiet.”

Hah! Isn't that rich?

With a shout Kalmia dives onto him, dragging Astarion kicking and screaming deeper into the water so he can see what a pond monster actually does.***

***Kalmia did not actually drag him into the deep end.

-majak ve kutol - give me release

[myechoecho]

The Double, Ep 15-16

I loved these two episodes!

Of course they met at the brothel. What's interesting here is that Li is the one to instigate the bit of flirting because she thinks he's here to see her. Which yes, he thought he'd see her in Luyang just not at a brothel. When the Wu Lan interrupts them and deliberately gives Li the wrong impression, Li is hurt and yes, jealous, that he's really there on business and not explicitly there to see her.

The Duke does not know how handle the mess Wu Lan deliberately created and desperately wants to fix it with Li. But the Wu Lan takes pity on him and tells him that Li is jealous. Which gives him pause and hope that Li does have feelings for him.

One thing I love the most about the Duke is how much he believes in Li and respects her intelligence. He chastises his underling when he thinks he is underestimating Li. "You never learn your lesson. Why do you still dare to underestimate her?". He doesn't know what Li will do, but he does trust her to do it.

The Duke knows why Mr Li invites him to watch the "play"at Lizheng Hall. He sees Li there and just waits. Once Li finally makes her move, he really sits up and pays attention. When Mr Li expresses surprise that Li would stand up for the Ye family, he basically tells him in his Duke way to shut up and pay attention. Li hasn't even started yet.

He loves watching her display her intelligence; he's turned on by it. Look at his face when she stats to tear the official apart:

I love their little interaction after the play. Neither want to give an inch. And while the Duke does get tiny, slight upper hand, he relents and asks her "Can you just let me let me win for once?". Which essentially acknowledges the power she has over him. Still, he does explain who Wu Lan is, as much as he's able to. Judging from Li's smile, she is happy with this explanation and that he wasn't at the brothel for carnal reasons.

At the same time, she refuses to let him know that she understood his message so he's left wondering.

I love the drinking scene! The Duke drops everything, though his investigation is coming to a critical point, to go to Li. He at first was going to let her do her thing, but then she asks him to drink for her. He started to reply that she should beg him and before he can finish, she does beg. He's surprised by this. Once he confirms that it won't be on her tab (which lets be real there is no tab where she is concerned despite what he says), she agrees to let him take over the drinking.

I like how the under lord cannot figure out if the Duke is her saviour or enemy. Even more, the under lord has a tie to the Duke's father. Li and the Duke's differing agendas are getting more and more intertwined.

Despite being drunk, Li still has enough sense to realize that she'll need to do something. It did not escape my notice that in her inner monologue she refers to the Duke by his name, Xiao Heng. I'm not even sure knows she did this. She comes up with the plan to use the fireworks and gets the Duke to shake the dice.

He immediately knows that she's has a plan and does it without hesitation. Once he understands what she's doing he's again turned on and proud of her. I think he likes seeing this side of her, the one that is more free. He also takes the time to ask what is most important on his mind - is she still upset with him?

I am so excited for the next episodes.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The scent of memory

Pairing : (implied) Caesar x human reader

Warning: FLUFF

Summarize (you'll never see me write a good one 😭): You started to cook a meal dear to your heart when a certain ape decided to pay you a visit.

Words: 2K+

A/N: I tried a little something, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy your reading 😊 I lowkey feel a bit insecure about this one but shhh I just wanted to get this out of my mind

Masterlist.

There were surprises every day. Ever since you joined Caesar's clan, you'd spent your time learning what your human life had never taught you: to use what nature offered and adapt it to the needs of the community.

And there was a lot to learn. So Caesar asked Maurice to teach you, to teach you the way of the apes. You were a quick learner, but you never gave yourself too much credit: Maurice was a good teacher, patient and clear in what he showed you. Regardless of the activity, he always found the best way to help you master the techniques for weaving ropes or fine plant stems and knotting them, for whittling wood to create stakes or notches, for carving stone to make weapons… Maurice taught you to identify plants and mushrooms, the edible ones, the healing ones, the poisonous ones. One day, he even took you with him into the forest to learn how to track small game. Not that hunting was one of your favorite activities, and even if you still needed a bit of work in that area, being able to find and track game added a usefulness to your presence within the clan.

Being useful. That was all that mattered to you, and often, when night fell and Maurice left you to your own activities, you continued the work. You'd weave again and again until you obtained the exact density and solidity you were looking for. You could spend several hours whittling a piece of wood to the right angle or thickness. Carving stone required more strength and dexterity. You often ended up with scratches on your hands, but if that meant being useful, then you'd take all the cuts and scratches necessary to master these techniques.

With Maurice, you learned the manual stuff. But there was one last thing you needed to learn. Something that took time to communicate: sign language.

Caesar always found a moment in his day to teach you. You weren't sure why he'd appointed himself as your teacher for this language, but it gave you the opportunity to spend some time with him. And over time, you learned to savor those brief moments when he showed you a new word.

Moments of peace.

It was a strange thing to feel serenity in the face of this force of nature that was Caesar. Strong, powerful but also fair and caring. All he had to do was stand there, and all eyes were on him. He attracted loyalty and respect like a magnet, and everyone was bound to succumb to his power. And yet, in contradiction to the unsettled beating of your heart, you felt a deep sense of calm as you spent these moments beside him.

You looked forward to his daily interventions, brief and occasionally strict if you didn't place your hands correctly to form a word, as if they were a reward.

Yes, you spent most of your time learning.

However, on rare occasions, you did have time for yourself, or rather, you allowed yourself to take this time after lessons, without practicing. You mostly used it to wash your clothes or cook. On the days when a touch of nostalgia crept into you, you cooked meals from your old life. Back when you still lived in the city.

You couldn't always find all the ingredients you needed for the recipes you now know almost by heart, but you always managed to replace what was missing. Thanks in no small part to Maurice's teaching. And when you cooked, a sweet aroma would delightfully fill the space of your hut.

Tonight was one of those days when nostalgia rang at your door. You had decided to cook a ratatouille. A simple, unadorned meal, but one in which most of the ingredients were available to you in the village: cultivating the land was also one of the things you had to learn.

You carefully chopped your vegetables, some of them already immersed in an old iron pan you'd picked up on one of Maurice's supervised outings. The aroma of the tomato melted deliciously with that of the onion, and each portion of vegetable you added to your preparation pleasantly tingled your nostrils. You remembered how, as a little girl, you used to complain that you still had to eat vegetables while your mother sliced them with a smirk on her face: “You can decide on your meal when you grow up, and to grow up, you need to eat vegetables”. At the time, you thought this was the smartest thing a person could say, and it couldn't be further from the truth. Vegetables made you grow and when you grew up, you could choose not to eat them.

You inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance's journey through your body until it reached your lungs. You almost wanted to hold your breath, letting the aromas mingle and swirl, but perhaps too soon, you exhaled, opening your eyes. How long had it been since you closed them? You weren't sure, but your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on the one of an unexpected ape.

“C… Caesar?”

His name falling on your lips was the signal that you had just become aware of his presence. He had watched you lose yourself in your thoughts and chosen to remain on the threshold of your hut, not wishing to disturb your deep reflections, whatever they might be. So he waited for a gesture, a mimic, a simple sign that you had become aware of his presence, before stepping forward.

As he drew closer, a tantalizing scent came wafting up his muzzle, and you couldn't help noticing his nostrils taking in a few breaths of the aroma. In fact, he glanced at your pan placed directly on the small fire, showing you that he had just identified where the smell was coming from.

Caesar plopped down beside you, always sitting so that he could read what was going on in your eyes. He often made the excuse that this way, you could more easily see and learn the words he was signing to you, which was true, but secretly, he enjoyed being able to study the slightest expression that ventured across your face.

And you were obviously entitled to a surprise quiz on your knowledge of sign language.

Caesar took care to sign slowly, stopping when he saw a doubt creeping into your eyes, sometimes repeating the sign that was obviously causing you difficulty in understanding, until you were able to correctly state the question he had just asked you, not without a touch of pride at your success.

“ You're not eating with the colony?”

You think for a moment, looking at your hands to try to find the right gestures.

“ Want to spend some time… ”

And when you couldn't find the right word, you said it out loud again.

“Alone.” You finished, silently asking him about the right sign for this word.

He looked at you for a moment, taking in your answer, before giving you the sign for the word “ alone ”. You repeated it to memorize it, and Caesar simply nodded when you signed it correctly. A comfortable silence settled between you and he glanced once more at the vegetables simmering quietly. The delicate sound of crackling food blended perfectly with the crackling of wood being devoured by flames.

You weren't done adding the last ingredients, and you took Caesar's silence as a signal that he wouldn't be asking anything more from you right now, so you set about crumbling the fresh thyme stalks on top of your preparation.

Caesar stared at the vegetables, their sweet aromas tingling his nostrils in waves, and when your hands appeared in his field of vision, he couldn't help but watch your fingers meticulously work around the thyme stems, creating a shower of tiny leaves over your meal. And as the food bubbled, the scent of thyme mingling with the other vegetables wafted up from the pan. For a brief moment, he felt as if a magic trick had been played on him, and his green eyes found their way to yours.

He knew about cooking. He knew that humans cooked every meal they ate, with the exception of a few that could be eaten raw, such as fruit and certain vegetables. He'd seen, and sometimes even tasted, when his humans' backs were turned, some of the meals and cakes they'd left on the table in the living room of his former home. But if he'd seen the finished products, how they were made remained a mystery. Will had never taken the time to show him how he cooked his meals. So there was something… wonderfully intriguing about seeing you at work.

Your gaze was still on the pot, and as you stirred the ingredients with a piece of stick from which you'd peeled the bark, you took a deep breath. Caesar watched your eyelids flutter and close as a smile crept over your face, as if a distant memory had just gently brushed over your mind.

You felt at home, and Caesar could have fallen even deeper in adoration at the serene, contented face you offered him, if he hadn't forced himself to avert his gaze, which he knew was sometimes too intense for you to bear. It was something he took note of mentally when he looked at you intently with the simple aim of learning the core of your entire soul. When his eyes settled on you for a little too long, you had this habit of rolling your shoulders, as if to rid yourself of some invisible tension, a self-conscious smile tacked to your lips, while your arms wrapped tightly around your chest to protect yourself from his inspection.

Caesar decided to keep his gaze on the contents of your pan, figuring it would be easier to suppress the gentle tingling sensation that was creeping traitorously into the pit of his stomach.

“It's… a meal that… my mother used to cook for me.” You spoke fondly, but with a hint of incertitude in your voice.

You didn't talk much about your past, just as Caesar didn't talk much about it either. Hearing you mention a memory that seemed to be cherished in your heart, though not sure it was the right thing to do, had softened the usually serious expression on Caesar's face.

Caesar nodded quietly, accepting your recollection as a gift, a token of trust. Even if these memories were attached to humans and to life before the release of the apes, they were memories that made you who you were today. Not allowing or accepting them would be like not accepting… you. And Caesar was already far beyond that.

You smiled again, your gaze lost in your memories. It was hard for him to understand how a simple scent could take you so far in thought, but after all, it wasn't for him to judge the complex emotions that must have been running through you at that moment.

“The same food?”

Caesar's gruff voice caught your attention, and a hint of joy lit up your face at his sudden interest in your past.

“Not quite.” You replied, still smiling. “I take the peppers off, I don't like them,” you giggled.

He huffed, slightly entertained by what seemed to be hiding a more detailed story you'd shared with your mother and didn't yet want to tell.

The smell was so tempting, it was hard to deny it. He watched you pick up the pot using a thick piece of cloth, so as not to burn yourself, and serve you a portion of food in a bowl. It was then that he caught himself thinking that maybe, some day, you'd agree to share with him this meal that seemed so dear to you.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 11 24

Thanks, Anon :) As I mention in my author's note on AO3, this isn't quite a Dirty Dancing AU, but Kellerman's was absolutely the inspiration for Bridgerton's.

3) SHIP: Cressida x Eloise

11) LOCATION: a ballroom

24) ITEM: a fan

more Bridgerton-themed fic prompts

Cressida in a Corner

Pairing: Cressida x Eloise Rating: T Word Count: 2761

Summary: Cressida's wasting her summer at Bridgerton's—the resort for "society families" like hers—taking dance classes she sucks at to get a boyfriend she doesn't want. When the AC breaks and a girl named Eloise shows up with a fan, Cressida sees the potential for more than one quick fix.

Cressida fell out of her spin when she saw the girl. Her eyes followed her instead of sticking to one spot on the wall like they were supposed to, she lost her balance, and then she missed the hand Freddie held out for her to grab—the one that was meant to whirl her back into their starting position. Instead, Cressida messed up and staggered off to the side as the music kept playing and the instructor kept clapping and all the other pairs finished the routine more or less in sync. Cressida huffed and mouthed Sorry at her partner. He shrugged, not looking too concerned.

The girl was oblivious to the disruption she had caused. She was wheeling a metal cart along the perimeter of the ballroom, avoiding the dancers in the center. Taking a long drink from her water bottle, Cressida stared at her. She saw her wince as she bumped and quickly retreated from a speaker. She was funny, Cressida decided, unable to help her smile.

The cart she pushed was carrying two box fans, and that was a very welcome sight; the AC in this building had gone on the fritz yesterday, but, promised relief, guests had been encouraged to continue attending the activities they’d signed up for. That was alright, Cressida had thought, if you’d put your name down for beach volleyball lessons. Those were already outside. You expected it to be hot. The ballroom was cool. It was where you went when you wanted something that didn’t involve sun or small talk or acknowledging that this was the only sad excuse for a family vacation you were ever gonna get.

Cressida twisted her hair up and away from her damp neck, turning her long ponytail into a bun. They were starting again.

“Precision,” Anthony was saying as they took their positions. “If you’ve got the steps, work on your lines. Point the toes. Elegant fingers. If you haven’t got the steps, learn them.”

As Cressida placed her hand in Freddie’s, Anthony went to turn the music louder. He must have cranked the knob in the wrong direction because the music died instead. The only sound was the shriek of one of the wheels on the cart, then the rickety thud of the girl half placing, half dropping a box fan.

Cressida was near enough to hear her instructor’s impatiently uttered “Eloise” before he turned the music up and they began the routine over again.

Eloise, she thought. As though called, the girl looked up from where she was jamming the fan’s plug into the wall. She looked right at Cressida. She wore trainers, denim shorts, a big blue t-shirt that was cropped at the waist, and had a fringe that needed trimming. Maybe she liked it a little long.

It was hard to get another glimpse of her as they moved across the floor. Cressida was grateful to Freddie; while she somehow forgot everything except making her fingers look elegant, his surprising grace covered for her mistakes. He was really alright, she thought. She smiled at him when the class finally ended—a mix of apology and gratitude.

He only said, “Tomorrow,” and gave her an overly formal head tilt that was almost like a bow.

While the room cleared out, Cressida lingered. Everyone had someplace to be; Bridgerton’s resort could only support this much carefree relaxation by running all its activities on a tight schedule. That way, guests could be sure they were maximizing their time. But with fun! Fun, just the way the busy businesspeople who came here with their children liked it: itemized, prioritized, scheduled. Well, Cressida thought, the rest of the water polo group would have to survive without her this afternoon.

Because the girl—Eloise—was still there. She was cleaning a mirror. Poorly. There was something endearing about the fact that streaks continued to reappear, no matter how many times she wiped. Cressida went over to her. One of the box fans rattled on nearby.

“Do you work here?” Cressida asked.

The girl—Eloise—turned, eyebrows lifted in surprise. She snorted. Cressida was further charmed.

“A life sentence,” she said.

Cressida laughed, confused. It must have shown on her face.

“I’m a Bridgerton,” Eloise added. “Eloise Bridgerton.”

“Cressida Cowper.”

It felt strange to shake hands, but Cressida did it as though it weren’t. This was how she’d been raised: to never seem the unprepared in any situation. Never the uninitiated, never the inferior. Never mind that she was nineteen years old and Eloise Bridgerton looked to be about the same. It was a warm grip. Cressida hoped her palm wasn’t sweaty.

“A Bridgerton’s Bridgerton?” she confirmed.

Eloise’s smile was almost apologetic.

“The resort wasn’t exactly my idea—my grandfather came up with it before I was born, then my dad brought it into a renaissance before he died—but yes, my name on the sign, all the same.”

“Huh. Well, you should be proud,” Cressida suggested. “It’s very popular.”

“Oh yes. Yes. It is that. No risk of ever having to look for a summer job where my older brothers don’t get to boss me around.”

Cressida laughed, then took her turn at apologetic: “Only child.”

“Lucky.”

“The instructor then…”

“Yes,” Eloise confirmed. “He’s one of them.” She studied Cressida a moment. “He’s married.”

Cressida didn’t immediately follow. Maybe it was because it was still warm in the ballroom. Maybe it had been all that spinning.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“That’s why you’re asking about him, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be the first. People take his dance classes. There’s romantic music. Maybe he partners them to show them how a certain move should go. They’re here on holiday. They think, why not a fling?”

Cressida was shaking her head adamantly.

“That isn’t what I was thinking at all.”

“It isn’t?” Eloise appeared incredibly relieved. Cressida found herself hoping it wasn’t all because she’d just saved her from having to come up with a fake phone number for her brother.

“Not at all,” she repeated. “I guess I was just curious. Anthony teaches dance classes and you… move fans?”

When Eloise laughed, it had texture. Cressida wanted to stretch out on that laugh as if on a combed beach. She felt herself smiling just watching the delight she had caused.

“By choice,” Eloise said. “I move fans and clean mirrors and whatever else by choice. The rest of it isn’t for me.”

“The rest of it?”

Eloise gave Cressida a long, assessing look. She had obviously decided something when she spoke again.

“This whole… courtship ritual. Business, romance, whatever. Bridgerton’s became a household name in certain households,” Eloise lectured. “It’s a certain type of guest here. A certain segment of society.”

“I’ve been coming here with my parents every summer for as long as I can remember,” Cressida offered.

“So, you know then.”

“Are you saying the Bridgerton’s resort is some kind of front?” Cressida joked, hoping Eloise wouldn’t take offence to the question.

Her snort said she didn’t.

“Not as insidious as that,” she said. “It plays a role, is all. Businesspeople make deals. Parents nudge their children towards relationships with the right families.”

“These are our circles. These are the people we know.” Cressida didn’t completely understand Eloise’s criticisms, but she wasn’t bothered by them. She found this box fan girl interesting. She found her unusual. Neither of them asked whether the other would be missed, if there were someplace else they were supposed to be at that moment. It was so strangely easy to just talk to this girl. She was sure it wouldn’t have upset her parents to come across her making conversation. The girl was a Bridgerton! But Cressida didn’t think like her parents, and she couldn’t have cared less about Eloise’s last name. She cared that she was friendly, and that she made Cressida forget about the schedule of activities. She cared about the soft-looking ends of her fringe.

Eloise shrugged off the topic and sat down. There were chairs around the edge of the dance space, beautiful chairs that seemed more suited to the ballroom aesthetic than the needs of sweaty amateur dancers. Cressida sat on another of them. The mirror and cloth were forgotten. The sport of water polo might never have existed.

“My parents met here,” Cressida confided.

“Many couples do,” Eloise acknowledged. She could just reach one of the fans if she extended her leg; Cressida watched her turn the fan towards them with the toe of her trainers. The sudden rush of cooler air was excellent. She looked questioningly at Cressida. “Better?”

“Much better.”

“How ’bout you and the guy you were dancing with?”

“You saw me dancing?”

Eloise rolled her eyes, but her cheeks went a bit pink, making Cressida smile in satisfaction.

“You’re tall and blonde and about a quarter of the age of most of your classmates. So, yes,” Eloise admitted, as though under great duress (in which Cressida was absolutely delighting), “I saw you dancing.”

“His name is Freddie Debling,” Cressida supplied once she’d wrung this from Eloise. She was preening a little, possibly patting her hair to ensure her bun was still in place.

“Is dear Freddie your boyfriend, corporate ally…?”

Though Cressida wanted to laugh, she found she couldn’t. Whatever Eloise saw on her face then seemed to make this brazen, opinionated girl uncomfortable for the first time.

“God, I am so… I am so sorry,” Eloise backtracked, sitting up straight like she was about to rise from her chair. “That is none of my business. You’re a guest and… ha… the look of disapproval my mother would be giving me right now for just rambling at you—”

“Please stop,” Cressida requested softly. “You can say whatever you’d like.”

“But you just told me to stop.”

Cressida smiled, wrong-footed but somehow pleased, because Eloise was grinning at her, teasing her, still talking to her. She would be just as generous. She would be truthful, and venture something of her own experience.

“I barely know Freddie,” she said. “He seems nice. Apparently, he comes here mainly for the birdwatching, and I’ve heard some girls say that’s a red flag, but I think they’re just reacting to the idea of a man with a pair of binoculars.”

“Not not creepy,” Eloise put in.

“He’s alright though, really. The problem with him—or anybody else, honestly—is, well, it’s like you said. These courtship rituals. Freddie Debling might be odd, but he’s successful. My parents…” She sighed.

Though the Mad Libs club wouldn’t meet until 4:30, Eloise went ahead and filled in the blank.

“You feel pressure to go out with him. Get romantically involved.”

Cressida nodded.

“A date might be fine. Being dance partners is fine. But there would be this expectation…”

“For it to be more than a summer fling.” Once again, Eloise had understood.

“Exactly,” Cressida said. She crossed her legs and circled her dangling foot above the ballroom floor. “Freddie and I look awfully good on paper.”

“I might just be moving fans around, but I’m in this world too. I do understand.” Eloise nudged her shoulder into Cressida’s, making Cressida smile.

“Maybe I should just go out with you then,” Cressida kidded. (But, oh, she wasn’t kidding.)

“Maybe you should.”

“If only you danced.”

Eloise jerked back and continued to lean away from Cressida as she demanded, “Who says I don’t?”

“I…”

“Everyone in my fucking family can dance,” Eloise assured Cressida jauntily, enlighteningly. “And two of us teach it.”

“You teach classes?” Broadening her idea of Eloise to admit dancing was one thing; imagining Eloise—squeaky cart-pushing Eloise, too-long fringe Eloise—clapping her hands and shouting above the music for people to elongate their lines and pressing her hand to a back or a hip (Cressida swallowed at the thought) to correct someone’s posture… that was another.

But Eloise said, “Oh god, no. My sister, Daphne. She’s the other one.”

Cressida nodded and glanced around the ballroom as she processed this. She looked back to Eloise when she noticed, from the corner of her eye, that she was being watched. Their eyes met and Eloise cocked her head in curiosity.

“Are they missing you at Pilates right now?” she inquired.

“Don’t be silly.” Knowing she was being teased, Cressida took a deliberate pause before adding, “Pilates is at dawn.”

Eloise wrapped an arm around her stomach and laughed hard. Cressida felt herself beaming reflexively. She didn’t know the last time she’d made someone laugh—she genuinely couldn’t think of it. Eloise, who was so very clever, so very witty herself… Eloise found her funny. It felt quite nice.

Eloise sighed and smiled.

“Can I keep you a little longer then?” She stuck out her hand, palm up, and wiggled her fingers in invitation.

“Is this a date?” Cressida asked wryly.

“Just a dance.” Eloise got to her feet, and when Cressida placed her hand in Eloise’s, she pulled her up too, leading her towards the center of the room. “Though, as I’m sure you know, when it comes to courtship rituals—be they business or romantic in nature—dancing together is a pretty classic move.”

Eloise was funny and a sweet, offbeat sort of charming that was taking Cressida by surprise—and so it wasn’t until she had Eloise’s hand on her waist that she remembered she was genuinely piss poor at this. She started to get nervous, shooting Eloise a tight smile.

“Talking was nice, actually,” Cressida said anxiously. “Maybe we should do more talking.”

“We can talk while we dance.” Eloise stepped forward, and Cressida knew she was meant to step back, but she didn’t. They bumped into each other. Eloise released her and stepped back. “Or not?”

“Just… I’m not good at this. I’m not one of the dancing Bridgertons.”

“Alright, well, no need to make us sound like a sideshow,” Eloise said with a laugh. “You and I can just dance. I don’t expect you to be Anthony. I’m actually extremely glad you’re not Anthony, if that isn’t obvious. Or Daphne or Freddie Whatshisface.” She flapped a dismissive hand.

“I’m afraid I might step on your feet,” Cressida confessed.

“I think I could survive that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And are you forgetting that I already watched you dance? I know you hold your shoulders too stiff and you’re shit at finding the beat if you lose it.”

Cressida ignored these bluntly-delivered critiques to focus on something more interesting.

“You watched me dance?” she checked.

“I already said.”

“You said you saw me dancing. That’s not the same.” Cressida was smiling smugly now, fears of toe-treading all but departed. It was warmer away from the fans, and with Eloise’s hand returning to her waist, the other gripping her own.

“Yes, well, these aren’t splitting-hairs lessons—which you clearly don’t need. We’re here to dance.” Eloise lifted her chin with a theatrical grandiosity. “So let’s fucking dance.”

“Let’s fucking dance,” Cressida agreed, giggling.

Eloise counted them in and, in the absence of music, kept counting. Cressida really wasn’t good, and Eloise was smaller than Freddie, so Cressida couldn’t simply surrender to letting her partner steer her around—brute-forcing competence—while she tripped over her own feet. When Cressida tumbled out of step with Eloise, Eloise just carried on counting out the beats until they could re-enter the dance together. It forced Cressida to pay attention instead of giving up, and made her feel she was, just maybe, getting a little bit better.

She was out of breath when they packed it in. They both slouched towards one of the fans and sat down on the cool floor. Cressida started stretching, but when Eloise laid down on her back, Cressida joined her. Side by side, they stared at the ceiling.

“You really aren’t bad,” Eloise stated.

“Except that my shoulders are stiff and I can’t find the beat and—”

“Shush.”

Cressida smiled at the ceiling.

“My fingers are good though.”

She heard Eloise shift and glanced over to discover she was being stared at. Eloise’s mouth was even open a little.

“My fingers. A-Anthony said,” Cressida stuttered to explain, “that our fingers should be elegant.”

“Right.” Eloise cleared her throat, dark hair sliding across the floor as she nodded. “Right, yeah, you’ve gotta… you’ve gotta think about that. Which you are. That’s great.”

After her babbling, Eloise was avoiding her eye. Slowly, Cressida smiled. She had just thought of a new activity to schedule in every afternoon for the rest of her summer holiday.

So much for water polo.

[orcelito]

I've been following that AITA blog for a bit now and it has me thinking about my own life situations with conflict and drama. A passive "do I have anything I could submit to that blog?" But upon thinking about it, it's like... I really find no value in asking strangers whether I'm "the asshole" in situations. There are situations where I'm clearly not at fault, situations where I was a little shit but it was justified, and at least one situation where I have a definite "Oh yeah, I was definitely the asshole there". All in the past, so it's not like I'd even need advice or anything. I already know, so what's the point?

Maybe it stems from me being a generally self-aware and self-confident kind of person. I know what's going on with myself, know when I've wronged people, & I have a mentality of "well, I'll try to not do that in the future." Even if I feel a little guilty thinking back, what's the point of asking after something when I know I'm at fault? Or situations where things were complicated and both people had fault in things, but I know I wasn't being shitty on purpose & that's what matters to me. Ultimately, it results in a bunch of strangers drawing conclusions about things I really don't care about outside input on.

Still love reading the blog tho. There's something about reading up on random people's life drama that satisfies that gossipmonger soul in me So well.

[cozylittleartblog]

diversity win your spam emails are queer

[ink-the-artist]

forgive me if you've been asked this before or if its annoying, but how did you learn to use colored pencils like that? your art is so special to me.

ty :) I took an art class for a few years where our teacher had us buy prismacolor pencils as one of the art supplies and had us use them kinda like paints, pressing down hard right away and blending the colors together. its not how youre supposed to use them she was just trying to teach us to use color and ig this was more to the point. I picked them up again years after i stopped going to that class just bc they were there and i wanted to play around w them a bit and ended up actually enjoying it when doing it on my own terms lol

[mountainshroom]

Played ULTRAKILL for the first time yesterday, and the fight with V2 stuck with me so had to do something lol

[july-19th-club]

mutuals should i learn to play the violin i just found a video for learning my very favorite piece of violin music of all time the meditation from thaïs and . well my brother once tried to learn violin and he gave up (he was like ten) but we still have this . fiddle of his. suppose i tuned up this probably not quite adult sized beast and learned the thaïs . a thing ive been thinking about since approximately seventh grade

[atissi]

did you know you can draw whatever you want. its crazy

[meimi-haneoka]

[youngpettyqueen]

fun little headcanon I have is that after like the second abduction Julian asked Kira to train him on how to fight

[astranauticus]

brb im gonna go find a place to Scream