#and cornelia is just. so much. I adore her

[kissmefriendly]

Sometimes a family can be a WWI veteran and bear, an elderly woman with a vast and often incorrect knowledge of the occult, a haunted teenager and an American field nurse who only looks like she’s holding the only brain cell in the group

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter XIII. Bleed.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 1.8k

chapter summary: a blanket of darkness covers your soul as it screams for her lover to return.

warnings: character death, chapter goes back and forth in time, very angsty

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🪻Anemone - abandonment.

Two months later...

The sun kept climbing higher in the sky, the days became longer and the nights warmer, tourists were slowly pouring onto the island, giving you something to immerse yourself in as you created many bouquets with your tired hands.

You buried yourself with as much work as you could, even if your fingers got pricked by the thorns on the roses you touched, you continued, not caring if you bleed.

All the happy smiles around you and the cheerful voices only made you feel even worse.

You had sent a letter to Hyunjin, and you never got one back.

You had tried calling him, but never got an answer either.

Every sliver of hope slowly died every day, even when you walked into your garden, finding that sunny corner where the two of you had kneeled, planting petunias together, your hands dipped into the earth.

They had blossomed fully as you slowly withered.

Hot tears slid down your cheeks, hitting the delicate petals and making them bend under the weight of your pain.

Your worst fear had come true.

Hyunjin had forgotten you.

He had gone back to the big city and replaced you with something or someone else.

The sharp pain when your heart shattered into pieces became a dull ache inside your chest, every single star in your eye has died, only darkness enveloping your soul.

You would wake up and go to work, spending the day in your flower shop and garden, reclusive in your house for the rest of the evening, not even visiting the restaurant anymore since it was lively with people visiting from everywhere.

They took away your cove, your beach, your hill, your forest, even the little island was tainted and you were forced into a dark corner of your mind.

Life had taken away your love, your only hope in this cold world and you were left with nothing, slaving away in your garden just like your mother did.

Lying in your bed at night, you would cry as you stared up into the sky, clutching onto the necklace that Hyunjin gave you, never once taking it off.

Slowly, as you had lost faith that he'll ever answer, you locked away his paintings and the clothes he left, but you couldn't say goodbye to the piece of jewelry that he seemed to adore.

Your tears had dried over the time, replaced with new ones when a knock came on your door.

"Catherine?"- you swallow, quickly fixing up your messy hair.

"Hey, I brought you some lemon lime cake."- she gave you a sad smile.

Pity, that's what was written on her face and you hated being looked at like that.

"Thanks."

"I have some news to share, they're not really good so I'd like for you to sit down."- she says with a serious expression on her face as you walk in and place the cake on the table.

Your heart sinks even further into the black hole inside you and you slowly sit down.

Under the yellow light of the kitchen, Catherine can see your prominent under-eye circles and the exhaustion on your face, the dull pain in your eyes, the tremble of your chapped lips as you inhale shakily.

It only makes it harder for her to be the bearer of bad news.

"Isaac had a heart attack. He died last night."- she says quietly.

You sit there, stunned for a few moments, your mouth going dry.

The constant pain in your heart becomes stronger as your stomach churns.

"W-what?"- you utter, a bitter taste forming in your mouth.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I know you were close to him as was... Hyunjin."- she says his name in a hushed tone and tears prick at your eyes.

"I'd like to be alone."- you stand up quickly.

"Are you sure? I can-"

"I appreciate it, Cath. I really do. I just can't. I need to process, okay?"- you say and she nods understandingly.

"Okay, but if you need us, you know where to find us. Don't hesitate to reach out."- she squeezes your hand for a moment, a sympathetic smile on her face before she stands up and leaves.

You sit in your kitchen, your tears a river as you process all the hurt stemming back from your mother dying to Hyunjin leaving you to someone close to a father figure also disappearing from your life.

You need Hyunjin more than ever, need him to hold you, need him to comfort you, to love you.

Your heart is dying inside your chest and you can't seem to grip onto any ray of hope or happiness.

Now, you feel like you're truly all alone.

Your task is simple yet heavy as your hands weave the thread between the stems of the arranged carnations, the bouquet that will be laid on Isaac's grave after his body gets lowered into the soil to feed the creatures meandering in the dirt.

With tears blurring your vision you finish the flower arrangement and make your way to the funeral together with a few other residents.

The funeral was big, everyone on the island adored Isaac and they came to see him off to another life.

Sad faces and big tears streaming down puffy cheeks were everywhere around you; Barbara was there wheezing as she blew her nose into a napkin, Delmar as he stared off into the distance with wet eyes, Bennet and Catherine as they silently held onto each other while she cried.

All of the other residents gloomy and murmuring how he's gone too soon, how he had more life to live, how they'll miss him making his little sculptures and his signature furniture for them.

As the gravel crunches beneath your feet while you make your way back to your house, you think of one morning almost a month and a half ago.

You've just finished putting up Hyunjin's art, the paintings he left as a gift to you now adorning your walls, replacing your old paintings that you had made years ago.

A knock sounds on your door just as you admire the fresh look of your kitchen and you make your way towards it.

Opening the door, you find Isaac standing there.

"Oh, hi Isaac!"- you smile at him.

"Hi, y/n. May I come in?"

"Of course, I can put on the kettle?"- you say as you close the door behind the man.

"You know me well."- the two of you chuckle.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit you?"- the man laughs.

"No, of course you are. You just rarely come down from your house, is all."

"Well, I can't deny that. I just wanted to see you and bring this to you."- he takes a little wooden owl out of his jacket pocket.

"Oh, did you make this?"- you ask, taking the little creature in your hand.

"No, it's Hyunjin's first sculpture. He left it behind, I found it next to the nightstand. It must've fallen while he was hurriedly packing just so he can spend as much time as he could with you."- he explains and your cheeks warm up, heart beating fast in your chest.

"It's so cute."- you chuckle.

"It is. I wanted you to have it."- Isaac smiles. "Did you hear from him?"

"Not yet, I mean it's been two weeks but I wrote him a letter. I'm waiting for the ship to come around so I can send it."- you smile.

"Ah, a letter. So romantic."- Isaac chuckles, sipping on his tea. "Hyunjin is a really good man, y/n. And he's lucky to have you."- he adds.

"Thank you, Isaac."- you smile warmly at the man.

"Oh no, thank you both. You've made me very happy, like you were my own kids."- he nods as you trace the indents of the wooden owl.

It stands on your shelf still and quiet, its eyes and wings closed, reminding you of that evening you sat and talked with Isaac, not knowing it would be the last time ever.

It is sad but true what they say; the heart really cherishes something more once it's gone.

My Jinnie,

I haven't written a letter in a long time so I might be rusty at this but here I am. I'm writing to tell you I miss you, but you probably already know that. It's like a piece of me left on the ship with you, and I need to have it back so I can feel complete. I don't want to make you sad with my letter though, I know you're probably stressed in the city now. Ah, I hope it's treating you better than before. Nothing really special is happening here, except that our petunias will blossom very soon; I wish you were here to witness it. I will send a sketch of them with the letter to you. I also think I wanna put up your paintings instead of my old ones, what do you think?

Well, I'm waiting for you to come back and thinking of you every day. I can't wait to be in your arms again. I love you so much, my lover.

Yours forever,

Y/n.

And you had waited every day since you handed the letter over, checking your mailbox, asking the postman about it, but you never got anything.

You tried to comfort yourself and convince your heart that something must be happening if he's not answering, but you also know that Hyunjin would swim the ocean just to kiss you so you started to fall into despair more and more each day.

You tried calling him from the restaurant's phone but the number he gave you no longer existed.

With the time passing by, and the days bleeding into one another, you started thinking you dreamed him up, hallucinated him, that he only ever existed as a figment of your imagination cause nothing that good ever lasts.

It was too perfect to be real and you were now faced with the hard truth, Hyunjin has left you.

Your thoughts became darker and colder, as you slowly deteriorated, withered and faded away into the shadows, back where you always thought you belonged.

The scared little girl that her mother never cared for was staring at you in the mirror, abandoned once again by someone she loved.

Everything you once held dear had lost meaning, even your flowers and your sketchbooks, the pain that ate away at you was the only thing you felt.

You wanted to scream and tear out the flowers, pluck them out of the ground, burn the sketchbooks and disappear but you did none of those things, only continued existing day after day after day, always the same.

You stopped checking your mailbox at one point.

You stopped crying too.

You had become a but a shadow of yourself.

You thought before that you weren't the girl who gets the guy, the main character of the story and now you were convinced more than ever that it was true.

You found all the little pieces of Hyunjin in your house and locked them away in a box, locked them away in your broken heart.

As months went by, and came to this point, you sitting in your garden in a black dress after Isaac's funeral, you spiraled into complete darkness.

Nothing really matters anymore.

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @lemonadeboun @eastjonowhere

[smilingformoney]

Champagne Problems

Chapter 3. Paris

Lionel/Reader

Summary: In 1989, Sinclair reunites with an old friend; in 1971, Lionel has a romantic surprise for you.

Word count: 10.9k

AN: shout out to @evans23 for helping me with the French!

All chapters here!

Read on Ao3 or WattPad or below the cut:

1989

“Hello? Earth to Lionel?”

Sinclair waved his hand in front of his cousin’s face.

“Hm?”

“What’s got into you? You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said all evening.”

“No, of course I have,” Lionel lied.

“Then what was I just talking about?”

“Erm… wedding plans?”

“…Lucky guess,” Sinclair muttered before taking a sip of his beer. “Look, I know you don’t like Natalie very much, but can you at least pretend to be happy for me? I’m finally getting married!”

“Of course I’m happy for you, Sinclair. I’m just preoccupied, that’s all. You’ll never guess who I found selling picture frames on Cornelia Street.”

Sinclair shrugged. “Dunno. James Callaghan?”

“[Y/n] [L/n].”

“…Wait, like your ex [Y/n] [L/n]?” Sinclair gasped. “Oh my god! I had no idea she was in London. What do you mean, she was selling picture frames?”

“Exactly that. She owns a shop that sells picture frames. I hired a PI to find her, it took him over a month, and she was down the road the whole bloody time.”

Sinclair stammered, overwhelmed by questions to ask. “Why did you hire a PI to find her? Did you speak to her? What did she say? Is she —”

Lionel held up a hand to cut Sinclair off before he asked any more questions.

“I wanted to find her because… well, it doesn’t matter now. It was completely foolish. She wasn’t happy to see me.”

“Well… are you surprised? Things didn’t exactly end well, Li.”

“And whose fault is that?” Lionel snapped.

Sinclair frowned and titled his head slightly. “Do you really not know?”

Lionel crossed his arms and sat back in his seat, sulking.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. She kicked me out. I thought that’d be the end of it, but… god, I forgot how invasive she is. Like a weed. Takes root in your mind and stays there. It was the same when we met, do you remember? I knew nothing about her and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her for weeks.”

Sinclair smiled, a cheeky, knowing smile, and Lionel knew exactly what that look meant.

“No,” he said firmly.

“You’re still in love with her! Oh, Lionel, that is adorable!”

“Fucking pathetic is what it is. I’m a mighty lion, and what is she? A weed. A stubborn bloody weed that won’t leave my head.” He tapped the side of his head to demonstrate the point, as if he could push you out. “Maybe I just need to get laid, put her out of my mind.”

“Absolutely not!” Sinclair said firmly. “You listen to me, Lionel Shabandar. I have never, in all my life, seen you as happy as you were with her, or as miserable as you were when it ended. You were both kids, and you fucked up. But that was almost twenty years ago! You’re different people now! You should try to reconnect with her. At least… at least hash things out. You clearly still have feelings for her, and she must do too if she was so upset at seeing you again. If you got back together, that would be amazing, but at the very least you can talk and get some closure.”

Lionel hesitated, thinking, then shook his head.

“No. No, it’s no use. It’s over.”

- - -

“We’re closed,” you said, not looking up from your stock report as you heard the bell ring. “Sorry, I forgot to lock the door. Come back tomorrow.”

“You know, you’d get more business if you stayed open an hour longer, then you’d get customers coming by after work.”

You looked up, frowning, wondering where the hell the unsolicited business advice was coming from.

Your frown deepened for a moment, then was completely erased and replaced with a joyous grin.

“Oh my god, Sinclair! Hi!”

You tossed your report aside and jumped up from behind the counter, practically running around it to meet him on the shop floor and give him a massive hug.

He laughed and hugged you back, rocking you from side to side slightly in excitement.

“Well, that’s a greeting! I wish everyone was always so happy to see me!”

You pulled back and looked at him. He was older, of course, but he still had a sort of youthful exuberance to him. His smile lit up his face, and he was quite possibly the very antithesis of his cousin.

“Oh, look at you! I missed that smile. How are you?”

“I’m great! I’m working as a business analyst now, which basically means I get to tell people what I think’s going to happen, and they pay me loads for it. And — the best news — I’m getting married soon!”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing! I’m surprised you’re not married already, you’re such a catch. Did things not work out with Emily? You were so enamoured with her!”

“Emily, wow, I haven’t thought about her in ages. No, we broke up during third year. She didn’t like how much time I was spending preparing for my exams instead of with her. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about Emily.”

You looked at him suspiciously.

“If Lionel sent you…”

“No, no! I mean, he told me you were here, but he didn’t send me. I sent myself. When he told me he’d found you, I simply had to come and see you! I really missed hanging out with you, you know. I understand why you didn’t want to see me after what happened with Lionel but… it really sucked that I lost a friend.”

You smiled. You’d forgotten just how genuinely endearing Sinclair was.

“Sinclair, you are such a cutie. We should absolutely hang out again.”

“Yes!” Sinclair agreed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. “I’m glad you said that, because I wanted to invite you to a picnic this weekend! I have my own place out in Windsor. It’s got these really big open gardens, and I love hosting picnics. You should come! We can catch up, and you can meet Natalie! Are you with anyone? You can bring a plus one, if you like.”

“No, I’ll come on my own,” you said quickly. “Um — will Lionel be there?”

“Oh — oh, no, Lionel won’t be there. Sorry, I should have mentioned that. No, he’s busy this weekend, so he can’t make it. So you’ll come then?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. Just give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

Sinclair grinned. “Great! This is gonna be so fun!”

- - -

Sinclair’s house was absolutely beautiful. It wasn’t quite as massive as his childhood home, but it was still huge, and you could see what he meant about the gardens. He clearly felt safe there, because when you approached the door it was wide open — something that nobody of sound mind would ever do in London.

You followed the sound of voices through the house and found yourself stepping through a very leafy conservatory and emerging in the open garden, which led down to a riverbank.

Sinclair was easy to find. His voice was the loudest, the most animated, and his boisterous laugh was like a homing signal, letting everyone in a two-mile radius know where he was and that he found something very funny.

He was standing with two women and a man, and he jumped slightly when you tapped him on the shoulder, but he grinned when he realised it was you.

“[Y/n], at last!”

He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into the little circle.

“Everyone, this is [Y/n]! She and I go way back. [Y/n], this is David and Laura. David works with me, in the finance department. And this lovely lady is my fiancee, Natalie!”

The first thing you noticed about Natalie was that she was very pretty. The second thing you noticed was that she was very clearly nothing like Sinclair. She held herself almost timidly, like she was afraid to take up space; unlike Sinclair, whose energy naturally filled any room he was in.

“Hello,” Natalie said with a polite smile, although you saw her eyes flicker to the arm that Sinclair had flung over your shoulder.

Bless him, he hadn’t changed much. He was still loud, still full of energy, and still totally oblivious. He didn’t think anything of putting his arm around another woman, because the other woman was you, and the possibility of there being anything between you was hardly even an idea in his mind. Even though you were long broken up, you’d always be Lionel’s girlfriend to him, and as far as he was concerned, you were like a sister.

“I was just telling the story of how Natalie and I met! I’ll start again for your sake, [Y/n]. So it was last winter, we were interviewing for new secretaries…”

Eventually, David and Laura managed to extract themselves from the conversation, and Sinclair turned his attention to you.

“Right, [Y/n], now I have you trapped at my home. Ha ha! All part of my evil plot to know every single thing that’s happened in your life in the last seventeen years. Come on, sit down!”

He led you over to the riverbank, and along the way he grabbed a picnic basket to share with you. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed Natalie had wandered off several minutes ago.

“You sit,” he instructed, indicating the edge of the river. “I’ll pour.”

You sat cross-legged by the river, and Sinclair sat with his feet dangling over the edge, the picnic basket between you. He pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, and you held the glasses up for him as he poured the wine and rambled on about the vintage.

“Here we are! Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

You clinked glasses and took a sip; Sinclair took a generous gulp.

“Help yourself to some snacks! You can have anything that’s in there. So, come on, tell me! What’s your life been like? How did you end up selling picture frames?”

You looked at him with curiosity. “You know, Lionel asked me the same thing.”

“Well, it’s an interesting question!”

“He made it sound like an insult.”

Sinclair grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose he would… well, I’m just curious, I promise. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with selling picture frames at all. Without people like you, what would he put his art collection in?”

“I suppose that’s true,” you said with a laugh. “Art’s actually how I got into it. My — someone I know is an artist, and we discovered frames are usually just one section of a bigger shop, so the options on display were limited. You could look in a catalogue for more, but you really need to see it in person to get the sense if it’s right or not. Dad’s cafe’s doing really well — he has four branches now — so he was able to give me a business loan to open my own place. I saw frames as a gap in the market, so… here I am.”

“That’s amazing! You always did have a good business sense. And, hey, if you ever need anyone to have a look at the picture frame market and make some predictions, I’m your man!” Sinclair decreed, pointing to himself for emphasis.

“Thanks, Sinclair, I’ll bear that in mind. And, hey, if I’m feeling generous, I might give you some free frames for your wedding photos.”

“Oh, that’d be amazing! But you should offer a discount to friends, not freebies, because then you still get to at least get the base costs back, and they still feel like you’ve done them a favour. So anything else? Like… a boyfriend? Husband? Kids? This is me asking, by the way, not Lionel. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”

You laughed. “No, I’m not married. Turns out I have trust issues, who’d have thought?” You shrugged. “I’m in no rush. I believe in the right thing happening at the right time.”

“Like when Lionel went for a smoke outside the art block at the right time! Or when Mum and I decided to try that cafe in Basingstoke at the right time. ‘Cus then I met you!”

“Oh, how is your mum, by the way?”

“She’s great! She lives in London now. She remarried! Her husband’s great, he’s filthy rich too so we know he’s not using her for her money. They’re always going on cruises. Lionel has the country house, the one you came to, he uses it for his art collection and to host galas and stuff.”

“And Georgina?”

“She’s… okay,” Sinclair said with much less certainty. “She’s in a care home now. Mentally she’s fine, sharp as ever, but she got MS a few years ago so she doesn’t walk anymore. But Lionel and I put her in the best place, she’s basically living in a luxury spa resort. Says she likes it better ‘cus she gets waited on hand and foot, and she doesn’t have to deal with us anymore.”

You reached over and took your hand in his. “I’m sorry, Clair. Even if she’s in a good place, it’s hard to watch someone you love get sick like that.”

Sinclair nodded and gave your hand a grateful squeeze. “Thanks, [Y/n]. You know, I… I really have missed you. I didn’t even realise I did. Does that make sense? It’s like, I got used to you not being there, and you just became an old memory, but as soon as I saw you again it was like no time had passed at all, and I remembered why you were so important to me. That time we spent together, the three of us — it was amazing. I think it really helped shape who I am.”

He sighed and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry it all got so messy in the end.”

“Nothing that happened was your fault, Sinclair,” you said softly. “It was mine and Lionel’s mess. You just… got caught up in it.”

“But I should’ve —”

“Oh, would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, Clair,” you said dismissively, pulling your hand away from his to open up the picnic basket and root around for a snack. “What’s done is done. Have you got any cheese in here?”

- - -

1971

You’d spent the first few weeks of summer wondering if you’d ever see Lionel again — and now, you were spending every day with him.

You went into London together often, or you’d go to his place, where you were able to spend more time with Sinclair too. Their mums were busy working so you didn’t see them as much, but whenever either of them would come home and find you were there again, they were always glad to see you.

As it turned out, rich people have a lot of parties, and they didn’t mind extra guests coming along. You found yourself at parties every week, sometimes multiple times, hosted by people Lionel hardly even knew, let alone you.

In the middle of August, Lionel called you while you were at home for once on a Thursday and told you to pack a bag for the weekend, and to bring your passport.

“…Why do I need my passport?”

You could practically hear the smug smile he was sporting on the other end of the phone.

“Well, they won’t let you into France without it.”

You couldn’t believe it. He’d actually arranged for you to go to Paris. When you phoned your dad to tell him you couldn’t visit that weekend, he was disappointed, but he was happy for you.

On Friday morning, Lionel met you at your house. You’d agreed to be ready to go at 8 o’clock — but you had no idea he was picking you up himself. He usually sent cars to pick you up, but this time, he knocked on the door at 8 o’clock sharp.

Realising he was actually here himself, you ran down the stairs with your suitcase to try to get to the door yourself, but your mum had already beaten you to it.

“Good morning. I’m here to pick up [Y/n].” Lionel spotted you at the foot of the stairs and his eyes lit up. “Hi, [Y/n].”

“Hi. Mum, you’re in the way.”

“So this is the boyfriend?” your mum said curiously, completely ignoring your attempts to get around her with your bag as she looked Lionel up and down. “You’ve done quite well for yourself there, [Y/n].”

“Mum! That’s so weird! Just — let me through, please.”

She finally backed off, and you practically jumped at the chance to get past her and join Lionel on the doorstep.

“Back on Monday, bye,” you said quickly.

“Be safe!” your mum called after you as you followed Lionel back to the car.

You gave your bag to the waiting driver to put in the boot, then climbed into the back with Lionel.

“Sorry, she is so embarrassing,” you cringed, but Lionel just laughed as he took your hand in his.

“Are you ready for Paris?”

“Oh, I am so ready. Are we still going to the Orsay?”

“Of course. That’s tomorrow’s agenda. I’ve booked us a hotel, so we’ll check in after we land, then we’ll go out for some food and drinks. Tomorrow the Orsay, that’ll take most of the day, I imagine — then we’ll have all of Sunday to ourselves.”

“Have you been to Paris before?”

“Yes, quite a few times, though I’m yet to go to the Orsay. I’ve been wanting to go for a while. I was planning to go by myself this summer, but… I’m happy I get to go with you by my side.”

You smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I’ll be by your side for everything, Li.”

- - -

Your hotel room wasn’t so much a hotel room as an entire apartment. There was a bedroom, a separate living area, a kitchenette, and the bathroom even had a jacuzzi in it.

“Lionel, this is too much!” you gasped as you looked around the apartment. “We don’t need all this for just us.”

“Nonsense. Nothing’s too much for you, and it has a stunning view. Take a look.”

Lionel took your hand and led you to the balcony, which overlooked Paris, and he placed a hand on your waist as he pointed out various landmarks by the Seine.

“It’s a beautiful view,” you agreed.

“It’s even more beautiful from my perspective, because my view has you in it,” Lionel said flirtatiously. He gently pushed your hair away from your neck so he could kiss the bare skin.

“You are such a smooth talker,” you laughed. “You don’t have to seduce me, you know. I’m already — I already like you.”

“I’m just stating facts.”

He kissed further down your shoulder, and you relaxed into his touch.

“When are we having dinner?” you asked.

“Whenever you like. Are you hungry now?”

“Not quite. I’d actually like to try that jacuzzi.”

Lionel grinned. “You read my mind, love. I’ll warn you, though, I haven’t brought any trunks… and I may have omitted to ask you to bring a bikini.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Cheeky. Well, then, I guess we’ll have to go without them, won’t we?”

Lionel growled in excitement, and eagerly led you back into the apartment, already unbuttoning his shirt. He went into the bathroom to fill the jacuzzi up, then came back into the room as he pulled his shirt off.

As he carefully folded it up, you leant against the wall and watched him. He was so gorgeous. He had no hair on his chest, and though the first time you’d seen him shirtless he’d expressed some self-consciousness about it, you assured him that you’d never liked hairy chests, anyway.

“You’re not going into the jacuzzi fully clothed, I hope,” Lionel said with a smirk when he glanced up at you and saw you watching him.

“No, of course not. I just wanted to enjoy the view first.”

“Well, I’d like a view to enjoy in return, please.”

You smiled coyly. You pulled your t-shirt over your head and discarded it; knowing Lionel was always eager to see you get your boobs out, you decided to tease him a little, and left your bra on while you unbuttoned your trousers instead.

“I’ll meet you in there,” you said with a wink, then disappeared into the bathroom before taking your underwear off. The tub was still filling, but you climbed in anyway, letting the hot water climb up your legs as it got higher and higher.

Lionel followed you soon after, lowering himself into the tub with you. He draped an arm over your shoulder and leant down to nuzzle your neck.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. “I know I say it all the time, but it’s true.”

His other hand slid down your thigh, his fingers teasing your skin as the water lapped higher. You giggled and squirmed a little at the tickling sensation.

“Li, that tickles!”

“Good. I like it when you squirm.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken. His hand was dangerously close now… you placed your hand over his and guided it back towards your knee.

“You know, you didn’t have to do all this, Lionel. I would have been happy with a simple room.”

“You might be, but I’m not. I can afford the best, so why shouldn’t I have it? Besides…” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m not bringing you to Paris to sit in some box of a room with no view. You’ll have the best view, the most comfortable bed, and the most luxurious jacuzzi jets. Speaking of which… I think it’s time we turn them on, don’t you?”

Lionel leaned over to turn the tap off and the jets on. You squealed a little in surprise as the jets of water shot out of the side of the tub, massaging your calves and your back with the water.

“Mhm, that’s better,” Lionel groaned with relief as he sat back on the seat, either arm draped over the edge of the tub. You came closer and cuddled up to him, your head resting on his chest. He smiled and stroked your hair.

“This is nice,” you murmured quietly, your eyes closed as you relaxed. The water was warm, the jets were soothing, and your boyfriend was holding you — you wondered if this was what Heaven felt like.

You sat there in a comfortable silence for a while. Lionel traced lazy shapes on your shoulder, his fingertips absentmindedly exploring your wet skin.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly after a while.

“Just relaxing,” you murmured in reply. “I’m so comfortable with you.”

Lionel smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Good. I’m comfortable with you, too. Believe me, being with you is exciting in so many ways, but at the same time… you’re the one source of calmness in my life.”

You smiled and looked up at him.

“Have I tamed you?” you teased.

“Oh, nothing will tame this lion, I can assure you,” Lionel said confidently. “I’m a wild beast at heart.”

“Mmm, I bet you are. And I can tell this wild beast is excited about something…”

Lionel opened his mouth to question what you meant, but all he let out was a moan when you dipped your hand into the water and wrapped it around the evidence of his excitement.

Even though Lionel was a virgin, he was still a teenage boy, and he had one thing very prominently on his mind at all times. You knew he wanted to have sex with you. You wanted it too, but your mum’s warning rang in your mind, and you didn’t want to rush into anything and do something stupid.

Lionel respected your boundaries, but you could tell he was struggling. Whenever you made out, when you shared a bed, when he saw you getting dressed — his dick made it very clear what it wanted.

You weren’t being completely prudish. You touched each other sometimes. You were both still learning about your own bodies as well as each other’s, so you could both be clumsy, and sometimes your awkwardness and embarrassment got the best of you. But you were so comfortable together that any embarrassment didn’t last long, and you laughed together at the awkward moments and learnt from one another’s mistakes.

Maybe a romantic trip to Paris was part of Lionel’s plan to get you to put out — and if it was, you weren’t entirely against it working. But most importantly, you were just happy to be alone with him, in an exciting new place, experiencing new things together.

“Does it feel good in the water?” you asked.

Lionel’s reply was just a groan, his head lolling back, his eyes closed as he tried not to cum straight away.

Your wrist couldn’t move as fast as you’d have liked it to in the water, but perhaps that was a good thing. You could see by the strain on his face that Lionel was holding back.

The fact that he was holding back just made you more daring. You moved in the water so that instead of sitting next to him, you were in front of him, floating in the water between his legs as you tugged on him, remembering what he’d told you about focusing on the tip.

“I think — I think you want me to cum in the water,” Lionel panted, finally managing to get some words out.

You pushed yourself up and out of the water slightly so you were level with him. You took his head in your free hand and pulled him closer to allow you to kiss him.

You could feel the water moving around where you were tugging his cock. Your hand movements were still frustratingly slow.

“God, fuck… I can’t…”

Lionel’s cock slipped out of your hand as he pushed himself up and out of the water, and sat himself on the corner of the jacuzzi, his feet resting on the underwater seats, leaving his cock free of the restrictions of the water.

His cock was still standing to attention, and it was directly at eye-level.

You had an idea. It was something Lionel had never asked for, but you knew it was something people did, and you wanted to try it.

You settled yourself between his legs and held the base of his shaft in your hand. Lionel’s grip on the edge of the jacuzzi tightened as he prepared himself for you to start jerking him off faster — what he didn’t expect was for you to open your mouth and to slowly, cautiously, wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

“Fucking hell, [Y/n],” he hissed.

You knew his cock was big. You knew it was wide. You didn’t think you’d ever get his full length in your mouth — but you didn’t expect to struggle with the width.

You tried to breathe through your nose. Slowly, carefully, bit by bit, you took him further in your mouth. You weren’t making a whole lot of progress, and you knew it would take some practice before you could really take him in your mouth. But you managed to gain enough ground to allow you to bob your head back and forth a little, and the noises Lionel was making made it all worth it.

Lionel placed his hand over yours, the one that was holding him at the base, and gently encouraged you to move it back and forth, allowing you to stimulate his entire length without having to worry about choking yourself.

“Fuck, I… I didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you’re fucking stunning like this,” Lionel growled through gritted teeth.

You looked up at him, and it took all of his strength not to cum right then. He loved your lips, they were so pretty, so perfectly soft and fun to kiss. They looked even better wrapped around his cock.

Not just that, but he could see your breasts too, nipples just about poking over the water. They were moving slightly with each bob of your head, the water sloshing over them, leaving trails of water that he desperately wanted to lick up.

“Touch yourself,” Lionel ordered between pants. “In the water, touch yourself… I want to see you enjoying this…”

You obeyed, your fingers rubbing at your clit under the water. You knew you wouldn’t cum this way, but just that bit of stimulation gave you at least some relief.

This was what life was about, Lionel thought. People sought joys in all sorts of things — drugs, art, you name it — but sitting here in a jacuzzi in France, jets massaging his legs, and you, the love of his life, touching yourself while you sucked him off… Lionel couldn’t think of anything better — except maybe fucking you. That was a joy he was yet to experience, but he knew it was going to be incredible.

His gaze drifted back to your lips. He wanted to paint them, to cover you with his cum. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back. You came unstuck with a pop, and you gasped for air.

“Touch your tits for me,” Lionel growled as he took his cock in his hand and began pumping it. “But keep your eyes on me.”

You obeyed. You were good like that. You had your boundaries, and he knew you’d say no if something made you uncomfortable. But if you were willing, you always did as he asked.

You massaged your breast with one hand while the other kept rubbing your clit in the water. Your nipples were erect with arousal, and sensitive too. You could feel every squeeze, every pinch, every drop of water. You looked up at Lionel, watching as he jerked himself off in front of you, and when your eyes met, you knew he was moments away.

“I want to cum on you,” Lionel said, his voice high pitched and desperate, nothing like the growling lion he liked to present himself as. “On your face or — or on your tits.”

“On my face,” you replied quickly, not even thinking about it.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you’ll take my cum on your face. Mmm, good girl… shit… fuck — [Y/n]!”

He let out a loud moan that echoed in the bathroom, and when you saw the sticky, white cum erupting out of his cockhead, you instinctively opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to catch it.

“Fuck! Fuck, take it… ohh… mhm, [Y/n]…”

He leant his head against the wall, panting for breath, his cock softening in his stilled hand.

You, meanwhile, were still desperately horny.

 Lionel didn’t seem to be moving any time soon — but something else was.

You moved over to one of the jets, which were still shooting out water. You positioned yourself in front of it, resting your feet on the seat as you found just the right position… and the hot, hard jet started massaging against your clit.

When Lionel had recovered somewhat and he opened his eyes, he didn’t expect to see you getting yourself off with one of the water jets.

“Enjoying the jacuzzi?”

“I’m so close,” you moaned.

Lionel sunk himself back into the water and wrapped his arms around you. One hand grabbed at your breast while the other found its way between your legs and started rubbing at your clit.

“I believe this is my job,” he purred in your ear. “But I’ll allow some assistance if my girl enjoys it.”

“Oh my god… it feels so good…” you moaned. The combined sensation of Lionel’s fingers and the water jet rubbing at your clit were bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You needed something more, just a little bit, just to push you over the edge…

As if he could sense your needs, Lionel took your nipple between his fingers and pinched. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, and your legs began to shake as your orgasm began to climb.

“Lionel, I’m — I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, love,” he growled. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Lionel… oh, god, Lionel… Lionel!”

There was absolutely no dignity in it. Your legs shook, your grip on the edge of the tub slipped, and it was only Lionel’s arms around you that stopped you from slipping into the water as your orgasm shook right through you.

It was the most mindblowing orgasm you’d ever had in your life. As the aftershocks wore off, you gave up on attempting to lean on the tub, and you let yourself relax into Lionel’s arms.

He held you close, his torso pressed against your back, one hand still on your breast as he kissed you all over your neck and jawline, as if he needed to consume you.

“[Y/n]… I am going to fuck you.”

You were too blissed-out to say anything, but his words sent a heat blooming in your core.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, but it’s going to happen. You can’t make noises like that and not expect me to fuck you. I want to make you cum like that around my cock. I want to feel you trembling beneath me as I bring you that pleasure. I want… fuck, [Y/n]. I want you. All of you.”

You smiled and turned around in the water to face him. You kissed him, and it was wet, and you wondered if he could taste his own seed on your tongue. If he did, it didn’t stop him from kissing you back, slowly but passionately, your limbs entwined under the water.

“I want it,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I want to experience everything with you, Lionel. I want to give you everything. All of me… everything I have to give… I’m yours.”

There were three things Lionel wanted to do on this trip, two of which were certain. The first, the museum, that was certain — tomorrow. The second, that was not so certain — to make love to his girlfriend — but it was looking more and more likely. And the third… the third was certain, but he wanted to do it somewhere romantic. And of all the places in Paris, the jacuzzi wasn’t so romantic, so he held off for now, but he was tempted. He was sorely tempted.

Instead, he placed a soft kiss on the end of your nose.

“I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you?”

- - -

You were very rudely awakened by Lionel pulling the curtains open, causing the early morning Parisian sun to hit you in the face.

“Time to get up, love. The gallery opens at nine.”

“Whassa time?”

“Seven.”

You moaned and pulled the duvet over your head.

“We don’t need to wake up two hours before, it’s right there!” you moaned. “C’mon, come back to bed, babe.”

“We need time for a romantic Parisian breakfast, don’t we?” Lionel said as he pulled the duvet back down. Even sleepy, dishevelled and hungover, he thought you looked beautiful in the morning light.

“How are you so awake? I swear you drank as much as me.”

“Lions don’t get hungover. Come on, if you’re so hungover, you need coffee. A good, strong shot of espresso will have you on your feet in no time. Come on, I’ll get your clothes out your bag, you go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

Reluctantly, and with a yawn, you sat up in the bed.

“You know, sometimes I think you and Sinclair are complete opposites,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself out of the bed while Lionel opened up your suitcase. “And sometimes I think you might as well be twins.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that. Why have you packed so many clothes? We’re only here for a few days.”

“I like to have options. It’s hot, I should have a summer dress in there somewhere.”

You trudged into the bathroom to sort yourself out. A quick shower had you feeling a little fresher, but your head was still pounding.

You emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Lionel was nowhere to be seen, but he’d left an outfit on the bed, a floral dress with short sleeves and a flowing skirt. You put it on, along with some clean underwear, and you had just finished drying your hair when Lionel returned with two takeaway coffee cups in his hands.

“Here you are. The hotel restaurant does some incredible coffee.”

“Ooh, that is exactly what I need right now, thank you,” you said with a groan of relief. You took the cup gratefully, and smiled when Lionel kissed the top of your head.

“Anything for my girl.”

You smiled coyly. “You like saying that, don’t you? Calling me yours.”

“Well, you are.” Lionel put his coffee cup down and placed his hands on your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head. “Mine, mine, mine,” he growled, punctuating each claim with a kiss. “Tell me now if I’m wrong.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong. I am yours, Li.” You placed your hand over his and leaned into his touch with a smile. “And I am also… very hungover.” You rubbed your temple. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do shots in that bar last night.”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk. Especially when you’re dancing all over me in a nightclub. Come on, are you ready yet? I want to take you to a lovely cafe nearby for breakfast. Food will definitely help your hangover.”

He wasn’t wrong, so you finished getting ready, and just before you took one last drink of your coffee, Lionel handed you some pills.

“For your headache,” he said.

“You think of everything,” you replied. You took the pills, washed them down with the coffee, then held your hand out to Lionel.

“Come on, then. Show me Parisian breakfast.”

Lionel insisted that you get to the Orsay at exactly opening time, but to his annoyance, there was already a queue of people outside.

“Ugh, I hate tourists,” he grumbled as you took your place at the back of the line.

“Hey, we’re tourists.”

“One day, I’ll be so rich, I’ll be able to hire out whole museums so we can visit them in peace. Just you and me, and as much time alone with Monet as we like. We could walk around naked if we wanted.”

You laughed, though you weren’t entirely sure he was joking.

“You’re not rich enough to do that now? Man, you should have said, I wouldn’t have bothered dating you.”

“Watch it, you,” Lionel teased, and you giggled as he tickled your sides. “I only have what Mum gives me.”

“Ohh, poor baby, does Mummy not give you enough money to hire out an entire museum? What a tragedy.”

“I don’t have unlimited access to her bank account, you know. I had to ask her for the money to pay for this trip.”

“Ah, so it’s really Georgina that’s taken me on this romantic trip to Paris. Noted.”

Lionel tried to tickle you again, but you dodged out of the way.

“I told you, I’m going to learn all I can about business at uni, then I’m going to make my own success. I’ll be rich enough to hire this place out, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will. Have you any idea what is going to make you so much money? You know, you have to actually do something. You can’t just walk around in a suit and tie pointing at pie charts all day.”

“Dammit, that’s all I thought I had to do. That, and shout at juniors for not getting reports to me in time.”

You laughed. The line began moving steadily as the doors opened and visitors began filing in.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out your path at uni, Li,” you said as you slipped your hand into his. “Maybe you and Sinclair could start your own company together.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Lionel replied noncommittally. “I love him and I’d do anything for him… but I’m not sure I’d trust him with anything financial. Money has a way of slipping through his fingers. I’m not even sure what he spends it on.”

“He probably eats it.”

Lionel guffawed. “You know what, [Y/n], you’re probably right. I’d wager it does all go on food.”

“Where do you guys do your food shopping?”

“How should I know? The staff do the food shopping.”

You had to laugh then.

“Oh my god, Lionel. Do you hear yourself sometimes?” You put on your best imitation of an overly-posh accent. “What do you mean, ‘buy’ food? Does it not simply appear on the table? Mummy told me that if I’m a very good boy this year then Father Christmas might bring me some new Gucci shoes. My driver got sick last week and I had to drive myself around everywhere, it was simply terrible!”

“[Y/n], stop it!” Lionel protested, but he was laughing. “I do not sound like that.”

“You do a little bit.”

“Look, my mother does her best for me, as all mothers do. It’s not my fault she’s filthy rich and spoils me rotten.”

“Ah, so you admit you’re spoiled,” you teased. You were almost at the entrance now, and Lionel reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet to pay your admission.

“Even your wallet’s posh. Is that real leather?”

“[Y/n], shush,” Lionel laughed. “Don’t go blurting it out to the whole world that I’m rich, what if someone tries to mug me?”

“Oh, Li, you don’t need me to do that. Your clothes do that for you.”

Lionel glanced down at his outfit with a frown. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Trust me, Li. Just like you can probably tell that I wear cheap clothes, yours scream expensive.”

“I just have good taste,” Lionel said stubbornly.

He approached the counter with a confident, polite smile.

“Bonjour. Deux billets, s'il vous plaît.”

“Ce sera deux euros. Souhaitez-vous faire un don pour soutenir notre travail?”

Lionel opened his mouth to say something, but then he glanced at you, and apparently changed his mind.

“Oui, bien sûr. Voici dix euros en plus.”

“Merci pour votre générosité, monsieur. Voici un guide du musée.”

The man handed Lionel a leaflet. Lionel glanced at it, then said, “Vous l'auriez en anglais?”

The man glanced at you, apparently unimpressed.

“Oui, voici une version anglaise,” he said, and he handed Lionel another leaflet. “Bonne visite, profitez-en bien.”

“Nous le ferons, merci. Bonne journée.”

Lionel placed a hand on the small of your back and ushered you on into the museum as the man behind the counter beckoned over the next visitor.

“Lionel…”

“Mmm?” he responded absentmindedly as he opened one of the leaflets.

“You’re so hot when you speak French.”

He glanced up at you and smirked. “Oh, really? I’ll have to remember that. It’ll be a lot easier to seduce you if I don’t have to actually say anything sexy. I’ll just recite the recipe for a cake in French.”

“Oh, Lionel, don’t be silly. You don’t know the recipe for a cake. Have you ever even stepped foot in a kitchen?”

Lionel smacked you with the leaflet playfully.

“As a matter of fact, I have. I’ll have you know that a few years ago, Sinclair became obsessed with the idea of baking. After his third burnt cake, I had to step in and supervise. It was an awful experience, I hated every second, I have no idea why some people pursue it as a career. Now, do you want to see the Monets first, or save the best until last?”

“Hmm… let’s do them first. Then we won’t be rushing through everything else to get to them.”

“Excellent. Here’s your guide — no, that’s mine. Here’s yours.”

He handed you one of the leaflets, the second one he’d been handed.

“What’s the difference?”

“This one’s French. Come on, it’s this way.”

“Are you completely fluent in French?” you asked as Lionel took your hand and led you in the direction the guide had pointed him.

“I’m fluent in French, Spanish and Italian,” Lionel said as if it was no big deal. “I can speak Dutch and Norwegian too, though not as well. Sinclair, of course, is fluent in all of them. He’s like a human Rosetta Stone. What languages do you speak?”

“English.”

“And?”

“English.”

“Seriously? They don’t even teach French in state schools?”

“We did a bit but it was all, like, basic stuff.  You know — Bonjour. Comment vas-tu? Comment t'appelles-tu? Je m'appelle [Y/n]. Je suis fille unique. J'habite à Winchester. Mon cours préféré est l'art. Où est la bibliothèque? That’s about the extent of my French. Oh, and the lyrics to Frère Jacques.”

Lionel chuckled. “They taught you the important things, then. Did they teach you how to say ‘My boyfriend is very handsome’?”

“No, why would I need to say that? Everyone can see how handsome you are.”

“But can they see that I’m your boyfriend?”

You glanced down at your joined hands.

“Point taken,” Lionel conceded. “Ah — there it is!”

He pointed to a door, which had Exposition Monet written at the top.

Although there’d been a queue to get in, the visitors had all headed in different directions depending on what they wanted to see, and the place was so huge that it was still fairly empty. When you stepped into the Monet Exhibition, you only saw two other people in there, and it was easy to ignore their presence.

There was something peaceful about viewing art with Lionel. He took his time with each piece, admiring it in detail. You’d gone to galleries together before, London had plenty, and every time, it was as if some other side of him came out.

It was easy to think of Lionel as a serious person. He was good at acting the part of the serious, well-educated posh boy you’d expected of him when you knew nothing about him but the college he went to. And next to Sinclair, full of energy and jokes, Lionel might seem, to an outsider, the most serious, unamused person in the world.

But you knew better. You saw him when you were alone, when his facade faded away and he felt comfortable enough to be himself around you. He was funny, he didn’t take himself too seriously, and sometimes he even let you see that he wasn’t always as pretentiously self-confident as he seemed.

But this Lionel, the Lionel even you rarely saw — it was like a third, hidden layer of his personality. He was quiet, but you could sense that internally, he was admiring every brushstroke, every choice of colour, every drop of paint that captured an artist’s vision.

It wouldn’t be until after you left a gallery and you were brought back into the real world that Lionel would say anything about the pieces you’d looked at. You would spend hours talking, discussing your favourite pieces, which ones had moved you, which had moved him, and swapping ideas and interpretations. Sometimes you disagreed, but you found that even more enthralling, because neither of you ever said the other was wrong, and you both loved to hear the other’s interpretation.

You turned into a separate room, and you saw a very familiar painting ahead of you.

“Look, it’s our old friend,” Lionel said, speaking for the first time since you’d entered the exhibition.

He led you by the hand up to Haystacks at Dawn, the very same painting he’d shown you the day you met. The plaque, written in both French and English, told you it was on loan from a private collection.

There was a kind of stillness in him when he was looking at art. But you could feel his thumb moving, gently stroking your hand, as if that one part of him that was connected to you stayed grounded while the rest of him was lost somewhere within the painting.

“Lionel?”

“Hmm?”

He turned his head towards you slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the canvas.

“I love you.”

It took him a moment to tear his eyes away from the painting, but when he looked at you, it was as if you were the only work of art there.

He didn’t say anything at first. It wasn’t hesitation — more of a basking in the moment, letting the reality of what you’d said set in.

His smile lit up his face in a way you’d never seen before. It was a mixture of relief, of peace and comfort; as if your words had washed all his worries away.

He leant down and kissed you, his lips soft on yours. He usually kissed you so passionately, his tongue pressing into your lips; but now, his lips were softly ghosting yours, as if he were kissing the words that had just left them.

His amber eyes gazed into yours with ardent adoration.

“I love you, too,” Lionel said softly.

You felt a weight lift from your chest, one you hadn’t even known was there, and a feeling of serenity took its place, enclosing your heart in a soft, warm, protective embrace. Nothing could hurt you now.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and held him in an embrace. Lionel hugged you back, his lips ghosting kisses across your forehead. In front of you both, Haystacks at Dawn was still there, a silent observer; its paint had sat on its canvas for eighty years, waiting to connect this, the greatest moment of Lionel’s life, to that morning in Monet’s life all that time ago.

And Lionel knew that he would never look at that painting the same way again.

- - -

“Oh fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

Lionel smirked to himself as he heard your voice from the bathroom. He had every intention of making you repeat that phrase soon for a very different reason; but for now, you were saying it because your feet were on fire from walking around the museum all day, and you’d just lowered them into the scalding hot water of the jacuzzi.

His feet were fine, of course. He’d spent many hours exploring Paris in the past, and he’d invested in some very comfortable shoes for it. You, meanwhile, had worn sandals with your summer dress, and they were definitely not designed for walking around in all day.

After the museum - which had taken you most of the day - Lionel had taken you for an early dinner at a fancy restaurant. Usually, you insisted on ordering for yourself, but since you had no idea what the menu said or how to order it, Lionel had ordered for you. You didn’t complain; it meant you could listen to him speak more French.

Lionel wanted to go out for drinks afterwards, but you wanted to rest your feet, so you agreed to go back to the hotel room for a while first.

While bathing your feet, you came to a decision. You knew what you wanted; and you wanted it now.

You’d already told him you loved him. Now you wanted to show him.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Lionel was sat on the edge of the bed, casually reading the back of a champagne bottle as he sipped on a glass of its contents.

“This stuff’s excellent. Do you want to try some?” Lionel asked, holding up the glass to you.

Your response was to take the bottle from his hand, and the glass, and place them on a nearby cabinet. You turned back to Lionel, who was frowning at his drink being taken away, but his mood quickly changed when you straddled his lap and held his head in your hands to kiss him.

Any thoughts of champagne were suddenly forgotten. All Lionel wanted to taste was you. His arms snaked around your torso, holding you close against him as he kissed you back. Emboldened by the drinks he’d already had at dinner, Lionel let a hand wander down your back, and when it landed on your rear, you didn’t protest. He let his other hand follow the same path, and even when he squeezed both your cheeks, you didn’t stop him. In fact, your reaction was to thrust your hips forward, and Lionel could feel his trousers tightening.

“[Y/n]… I’ve warned you about wriggling on my lap,” Lionel said through gritted teeth as your kisses wandered down his jawline. “Are you trying to get me excited?”

You just kept kissing him until you reached his ear, then said softly, “Are there condoms in your bag?”

Lionel’s breath hitched.

“Why… why would I pack condoms?”

“Hmm, I don’t know… a romantic trip to Paris with your girlfriend… why wouldn’t you pack condoms?”

“I… yes, I brought some. Just — just in case.”

“Good.” You pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. “Better get them out, then.”

Lionel’s eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed again as he remembered his confidence. You stood to let him up, and he tried to act cool as he went over to his suitcase to dig out the box of condoms he’d packed, hidden from view beneath his underwear.

“I’ve… had these for a few weeks,” he admitted as he turned back to you with the box in hand. You’d sat yourself on the bed and scooted up to sit against the headboard.

“It’s open,” you said curiously as Lionel placed the box on the bedside table and shrugged off his jacket.

“I practised putting it on,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to do it wrong when — when the time came.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over yours.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I’ve brought you to Paris.”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, I’m sure, Li. Anyway, I don’t have much choice after hearing you speak so much French today. Every time your accent changed, I had to resist the urge to drop my knickers right there and then.”

Lionel chuckled and pushed himself onto the bed to straddle your legs. “I didn’t know French had such an effect on you. I’d have started speaking French to you weeks ago if I’d known.”

“I didn’t know either until I heard it from you. You could say anything in French and it’d sound sexy.”

Lionel smirked mischievously. He leaned forward and brought his lips close to your ear, then whispered, “Omelette du fromage.”

You burst out laughing.

“Come on, I know that means cheese omelette!”

Lionel laughed as he pulled away and sat back. He placed his hands on your knees and gently moved them away from each other, smiling as he admired the view of your skirt riding up your thighs.

“I think I’ll start with taking your knickers off,” he said with a growl.

He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you down the bed until you were flat on your back. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of your knickers, and he gently pulled them down your legs and past your ankles, before discarding them on the floor somewhere.

You felt exposed like this, Lionel’s grip on your thighs keeping them firmly in place, so you couldn’t have closed your legs if you wanted to. He was looking between your legs hungrily, his pupils wide and dilated, as he considered his next move.

“Maybe you’re right about calling yourself a lion. You look like you’re about to pounce.”

Lionel’s eyes flickered up to yours, and he smirked.

“I am a lion, darling.” His eyes drifted down again. “I suppose that makes you my gazelle.”

He certainly moved with the swiftness of a pouncing lion going in for the kill, but instead of teeth sinking into the flesh of prey, he dipped his head between your legs and you felt his tongue delve beneath your folds.

You gasped, and that only spurred him on, his tongue exploring your folds as enthusiastically as it had explored your mouth on many occasions. He licked every inch of you he could find, and you were sure he was leaving your clit for last — you knew damn well he knew where it was, his fingers had proven that several times now.

When he finally deigned to show you some attention where it really mattered, he gave you the smallest, slightest lick under the hood, right on it, and you let out a whine.

You could feel him smirking. You could feel his fucking pride against your skin as he licked you again, and you let out another whine.

He was doing it on purpose, you realised as he did it a third time. He was giving you a small but perfect lick, just enough to make you whine, then pausing before doing it again.

“Stop teasing and do it properly, you arsehole,” you said through gritted teeth.

Lionel pulled his head back slightly to look up at you and laughed.

“Anything for you, mon chérie.”

He stopped teasing. He did it properly.

He was a quick learner. It was his first time eating you out, yet somehow he was able to stimulate you in ways you could never do with your own fingers, even though you’d been touching yourself since you were eleven years old.

Then again, a tongue was very different from a finger. It was wetter, softer, and able to change shape. Lionel could also, you discovered with a moan, close his lips around your clit and suck.

That was apparently the last straw. Lionel kept sucking and licking as you came, legs shaking and mouth crying out something that vaguely resembled his name. It was only when you asked him to stop that he stilled his movements and pulled his head back, and the sight of his lips and chin covered in your glistening cum was bested only when you saw him wipe his chin with his thumb, then lick the thumb clean.

“You’d better get those fucking clothes off,” you said as you reached over for the box of condoms.

“Since when does the gazelle give the lion orders?”

Even so, Lionel obeyed, fingers making quick work of his shirt. You pulled your dress over your head, then unclasped your bra and tossed it all aside.

Lionel groaned with relief when he was able to pull his trousers down and free his cock. He kicked away the remainder of his clothing, then took the condom from you. You watched as he rolled it down his shaft, then you wrapped your hand around him and gave it a few experimental tugs to see what it felt like.

“When you practised… did you cum in it?”

“Mmm. It feels different. Less sensitive, perhaps, but that may be a good thing — I might finish too soon otherwise.”

“Did you think about me?” you asked teasingly.

Lionel raised an eyebrow at you. “[Y/n], I have thought about you with every wank since the day we met. I’d hope you’ve been thinking about me too.”

“Oh, I have,” you promised. “Especially since I first touched your cock and realised how big you are… I’ve been wondering what it’ll feel like to have you inside me. If you’ll even fit.”

“Then wonder no more. Lie down, darling.”

You did, and as you adjusted the pillow to support your neck comfortably, Lionel kissed his way up your body, starting from your belly button, all the way up your chest until he was kissing your lips again.

His body was pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you could definitely feel his cock pressing against you, just one swift movement away from pushing inside.

“You’re shivering,” Lionel said with a small frown when he pulled away from the kiss and noticed you were shaking slightly. “Are you cold?”

“I’m — I’m nervous,” you admitted shyly.

Lionel kissed your lips softly. “So am I,” he admitted.

“I thought lions didn’t get nervous?”

“Perhaps I’m more human than I thought.” He gently stroked a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Are you ready, love?”

You nodded. You’d never been more ready for anything in your life. You didn’t just want him; you needed him.

Lionel pushed his hips forward slightly… and missed, his cock sliding up against your skin instead.

You reached down and took his cock in your hand. You guided him towards your entrance, and when he slipped inside, he let out a low groan.

“Holy shit,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You pulled your hand away, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him close to you as his hips moved further forward.

“Oh my god, [Y/n]. You feel… fucking phenomenal. I had - Christ! - I had no idea it would feel like this. So — so wet and warm. Fuck. How does it feel?”

“I can — I can feel you stretching me out,” you gasped in response. “It’s good — a good stretch. Like my body’s… expanding to fit you.”

“Mmm, yes, you’ll take all of me. And you wondered how I’d fit… the answer is perfectly. You were meant to take me, don’t you think? The gazelle meant to be devoured by the lion.”

He let out a groan as he bottomed out, his hips pushing into your thighs. Lionel took the skin of your neck between his teeth and sucked, as if he really were trying to devour you.

“I’m not… I’m not a gazelle,” you breathed.

Lionel released your neck from his lips so he could look up at you with amusement.

“Oh? Then what are you?”

You kissed him, hard and firm, as if marking your territory, then raised your lips to his ear.

“I’m the fucking lioness.”

Lionel physically shuddered as a wave of arousal swept over him.

“Yes… yes, you fucking are. Of course you are. My lioness. Then I hope you’re ready, love. Because I’m going to fuck you like the mighty fucking lioness you are.”

“Then do it.”

Lionel grinned, and you really hoped the hotel walls were soundproof, because the noise you made when he began slamming his hips into you was ungodly. And he kept going, which only made your sinful moans longer.

“I’m not gonna fucking last long if you - hah - if you moan like that,” Lionel grunted. “Bloody hell, love, I can’t tell you how fucking good you feel. I’m afraid I won’t last a day without fucking you now, not now I know this is how it feels. Even better than I imagined, fuck… fucking hell, [Y/n]. I love you. I really fucking - Christ! - I really love you. Shit, I’m about to cum already…”

“Do it, I want you to,” you gasped. “I want you to cum with your cock inside me, Li…”

“Oh, I will, I promise you that. Fuck, I — [Y/n] — [Y/n]!”

His hips stilled as he came, and that beautiful look on his face of utter ecstasy as he lost control looked even more beautiful from this angle.

Your name melted into a groan, and then a grunt of exhaustion as Lionel’s entire body relaxed and he practically flopped onto you.

“Fucking hell, [Y/n],” he mumbled as he nuzzled your neck and planted soft kisses on your skin. “You’re amazing.”

You smiled and kissed his shoulder.

“I know.”

Lionel laughed breathily, then pulled out of you and managed to sit himself up to pull the condom off.

“Back in a sec.”

He pushed himself off the bed and took himself into the bathroom, where you heard him turn on the tap, no doubt to clean himself up.

You took the opportunity to sit up slightly and look between your legs. To your surprise, there was no blood, just the usual glistening of your own secretions.

When Lionel came out of the bathroom, you took your turn. You returned to him sitting up against the headboard, still stark naked, lighting a cigarette.

“Do you want one?” he asked, pointing to the packet of cigarettes that now sat next to the condoms on the bedside table.

You shook your head as you climbed back onto the bed with him, an arm snaking over his torso as you cuddled up to him. Lionel wrapped his arm around you and cuddled you back.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded and smiled happily.

“I thought there’d be blood. My friends all told me you bleed the first time.”

“Only if your boyfriend doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Lionel said smugly. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then said, “I know that was quick. I knew it’d be good, but I didn’t think it’d be that good. I’ll be ready to go again soon, we can do it again if you want. Tomorrow too. In fact, forget seeing Paris, let’s just stay in here and shag all day.”

You laughed and looked up at him. “Think you’ve got the stamina for that? Lions aren’t known for their endurance.”

Lionel grinned.

“When they’re in heat, they shag about fifty times a day. Think we can match that?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna try.”

Lionel reached over to stub his cigarette out in the ashtray, then wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you down onto the bed, kissing every inch of you he could find. He growled with arousal as your bodies pressed together, and you could feel him getting erect again.

“You’ve awoken the beast now, love. And I am going to fucking devour you.”

Paris could wait. Your boyfriend had only one thing on his mind, and so did you; you knew you weren’t leaving this hotel room for a long time.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Forever and Always (Blair Waldorf x gn reader)

Summary: you recount the time and events that led up to your wedding with Blair while on your honeymoon

Warnings: mentions of Blair's eating disorder, mentions of sex, cute marital/honeymoon fluff

A/N: I'm not entirely sure where this idea came from but I've been obsessed with blair recently so I hope you guys enjoy <3

The day you married Ms. Blair Cornelia Waldorf and she officially became your lawfully wedded wife was one of the very best days of your life by far, right up there with the first time you spent the night together and when she asked (or demanded rather) that you go out with her once she found out about your crush.

You could recall so clearly just how intimidating she was, something that quite honestly scared you a little and stopped you from making the first move. She wasn't one to dismiss a cute little admirer such as you just for being a little shy, so she decided to take matters into her own hands and asking you out herself.

The look of complete and utter shock on your face was adorable, and it only made her more intrigued. She wanted to spend every second of every day with you just so she could have the time in order to figure you out.

No one else captivated her like you did, and no one else was as loyal. You never betrayed her, never questioned or doubted her, never berated her for the many schemes she pulled and never made her feel like she didn't deserve anything other than the absolute best. You were someone she always knew she could go to, whether it be for help or advice or even a shoulder to cry on because unlike other people in her life you never took advantage of her misery or stabbed her in the back.

You also didn't care about taking away her spotlight. You knew exactly who she was as Queen B, and you were more than happy to simply be her loving and doting partner rather than someone who was fighting with her for the attention of others (like Serena, for example).

Every birthday, every anniversary, every special occasion you always went above and beyond to make everything perfect for her because in your eyes she deserved nothing less than that. You never had to fight for her affections because unlike other people you never felt the need to play games with her or make her doubt your complete and utter devotion.

No one else made her feel as seen or as loved as you did. Not Serena, not Nate, not Dan or Chuck. Not even her own mother, who you definitely weren't above scolding whenever she dared to bring up the sensitive topic of Blair's eating disorder.

You remembered the day you found her crying while sitting in the bathroom, disgusted with herself for throwing up her food yet again after binging it all. It took everything in you not to start crying yourself, tears pricking at your eyes as you gently held her face and told her that she was so much more beautiful than she could ever imagine to be, and that she didn't need to do this to herself.

She slept pressed right up against you in her massive bed that night, her face buried into your chest as you offered her soft words of encouragement. She trusted you with every secret of hers, big and small, because she knew you'd never dare to tell another soul. You were like a lock box that she could dump all of her deepest, darkest fears into without ever having to worry about them resurfacing again or being shoved back in her face.

The first time you had sex was nothing short of magical. You took the time to worship every single portion of her body, every curve and every angle, your lips and hands not leaving a single area untouched. The way her big eyelashes fluttered as she closed her brown doe eyes and moaned in ecstacy was something you'd never be able to forget.

You'd known for a long time you wanted to marry her, but chose to wait for when the moment was right and you were certain she felt the same. When you finally proposed you did it with the perfect ring that her friends helped you pick out, wanting it to be a surprise.

Blair said yes right away of course, delighted and overjoyed that you'd finally popped the question. You spared no expense for the wedding itself, letting her plan things exactly the way she liked without protest, and when you saw her walking towards you down the aisle in her gorgeous dress, you remembered all over again just why you'd fallen in love with her.

Neither one of you hesitated when saying "I do", sparks seeming to fly when you sealed the life long commitment you'd made for each other with a loving and passionate kiss. The two of you jetted off to your honeymoon shortly after that, the location naturally being Paris.

There were people who said that marriage wasn't worth it, that it didn't matter, that it was nothing more than signing a piece of paper. You could never believe that, especially after waking up that very first morning after your wedding.

Blair was sleeping beside you after a long and active night of pleasure, her wedding band catching in the sunlight coming in through the partially opened blinds. She looked gorgeous, like one of those famous paintings that hung in museums for all to see. Your very own Mona Lisa.

"Good morning, my beautiful wife," you softly cooed when she began to stir, something she responded to by shifting some in her spot and moving in to cuddle up closer. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept the best last night than I ever have before," she replied in a slightly groggy voice, pressing light kisses along your neck as she laid in bed with you. "What do you want to do today?"

"Anything you want, sweetheart," came your response as you brushed your fingers through her slightly tangled hair in an affectionate manner. "Anything for you."

You really meant that. Part of you deep down knew that she was the one from the very moment you laid eyes on each other, but it was only further solidified when you took your vows. You said you'd love her forever and always, and you fully intended on keeping that promise until the very end.

End notes: wife blair just hits different I feel like

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[corrodedcoffins-blog]

The Weeklong Date (pt.2)

main masterlist

spencer reid x famous!reader universe

word count: 1.6 k

warnings: suggestive, a lot of taylor swift references

It was the fifth day of Y/N staying with Spencer, and he went back to work yesterday. And staying with Spencer for a few days they’ve built a sort of routine, that was sort of housewifey, Y/N would sit in bed and watch as Spencer got ready for the day; tucking in his shirt, that Y/N found so adorable. Spencer would always kiss Y/N goodbye, and kissing Spencer every morning was a luxury Y/N doesn’t think she will ever take for granted. And while Y/N waited for Spencer to come home for lunch, she was starting to write more and more songs for her next album, or sometimes she would read the books Spencer kept beside his bed. She had started reading ‘The Great Gatsby’ she had always wanted to but it was never the time. 

But her favourite time of the day was when Spencer would come home during his lunch break. Spencer hadn’t been telling Y/N, but everyday when he leaves for lunch, getting back the team was hounding him wondering where he left too. Of course he didn’t tell them, wanting to keep their relationship private for a little while longer. But he never did miss the knowing look Penelope sent his way. 

-

After Spencer’s long day of the team questioning where he’s been, and having to explain why he couldn’t come to the bar with them and that they couldn’t talk him into it like they usually would. Spencer just wanted to spend time with Y/N, take her on a date, hopefully something private enough that she wouldn’t get noticed. And Spencer had a idea he thought was perfect.

Walking through the front door he sees Y/N curled up into his couch, with one of his cardigans on, reading one of his books. Seeing Y/N so openly use his things, and clearly being so comfortable in his space, Spencer felt this overwhelming sense of possessiveness over her. Wanting nothing more than for her to be his. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out.” Spencer urged, grabbing onto Y/N’s forearms to lift her off the couch.

“Where are we going?”

“If I say it won’t be a surprise.”

“I didn’t know it was a surprise. I thought I told you I don’t like surprises, don’t you have an eidetic memory? You should remember that.”

“I do remember, I just don’t believe that you hate them as much as you say. I am also a profiler so I can tell these things.”

-

Surprisingly it was already dark out, but that was a good thing, because Spencer had decided to take Y/N on a late night drive, to go get ice cream. He still hadn’t told Y/N and to say the least she wasn’t too happy with his choice in doing that. 

“Where are we going, Spence?”

“Y’know children often ask the same question, either because they are hoping that the answer will change or because they didn’t understand the answer. Now applying that to this situation, I know you understand me, so I can only assume it’s that you're hoping for a new answer. So I’ll just tell you I’m not giving you another answer.”

“Where are we going to go?” Y/N asked in the darkness of the car, seemingly ignoring what Spencer had just said. Don’t get her wrong, Y/N loves when Spencer rambles, it showcases how smart he is, which is something she greatly loves about him. And she definitely listened to every word he said, but what she doesn’t like is when he uses his knowledge against her.

“You’re impossible.” Spencer said, quickly glancing at Y/N before looking back to the road and continuing, “Having a distraction technique can be a very healthy way of coping with a situation, so how's the construction in your building going?”

Y/N’s apartment building in New York, had a flood while she was away and have been doing construction the last week.

“It’s going good I guess, it’s going to take a little more time then they initially thought, because they found some pipe that was in the wrong place. So I rented a place on Cornelia Street.”

“That’s good.” The car had stopped at a red light causing them both to look towards each other. There was no way to explain it but the air between them had shifted, looking into eachothers eyes, Spencer’s glancing down to Y/N’s lips. He pauses for a moment, before gently pressing his lips to hers. After another moment Y/N pulls back to look back into Spencer’s light brown eyes, a beautiful chestnut, her lips falling open as if to say something, but no words coming out. But only for a moment, until she speaks.

“Spencer, I love you.”

This causes Spencer to hesitate, It was at this moment that Spencer realised, god he loved her. He loved her more than any other girl he’s ever been with, and they weren’t even official, they weren’t dating, on paper they weren’t anything. But they were so much more. 

After a few moments of pondering, thinking about how deeply in love he was with a girl he met a month ago, a car honks behind them the light had turned green and the cars in front of them long gone, causing Spencer to pull over to a side street before he responds. 

“I love you too.”

“Oh, thank god, I thought you were going to say you didn’t love me back. ‘Cause I know this is soon and it’s a bit of a delicate situation, I mean we aren’t even dating-”

For the first time in Spencer’s life it was him cutting of someones rambling. Grabbing Y/N’s hands to grab her attention.

“Hey, I love you. And I want to be with you. I don’t think it’s too soon, sure most couples fall in love four months into a relationship, but when has either of our lifestyles been like most?”

Spencer says, causing Y/N to laugh before she fully realises that they’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other. Then Spencer continues, “I love you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Yes!” Y/N says, jumping into Spencer's lap and passionately kissing him. 

He loved her. He is her boyfriend. And he loves her. His love was a secret Y/N was more than willing to keep.

“Know where are you taking me?”

“To go get ice cream.”

“Yay!”

-

That night the couple had read The Great Gatsby together, after making sweet, feverish, emotion filled love together, right where they lay now. Y/N laying between Spencer's legs, her back on his stomach, wearing only a clean pair of Spencer’s boxers, with Spencer wearing a pair of Y/N’s favourite pyjama pants on him. Spencer had the book in his hands, with said hands resting on Y/N’s boobs, in order for them both to see the book. No other reason. 

The two both loved this post orgasm bliss they had, spending time together, it was just simple. Reading together, Y/N asking any random question that pops into her head, knowing Spencer will have the answer, like now. 

“I saw today that shrimp can see more colours than humans. How is that possible?”

Before Spencer could answer, a knock interrupted the two, Y/N saying she’ll get it, then getting up to get the door, throwing one of Spencer’s sweater vest overtop of herself.

The popstar answered the door, coming face to face with one of her boyfriend’s co-workers, Derek Morgan. Maybe the worst member of the team to find out this way. Seeing Derek, Y/N became very aware of what clothes she was wearing, or lack thereof. 

“Derek Morgan.”

“Y/N.”

Pulling down the sweater vest of Spencer’s Y/N says, “Um.. You’re looking for Spencer I assume?”

“Yes, I am.” Derek says, not before looking Y/N up and down taking in her appearance. 

“Okay, yes. I will get him. For you.”

Derek mumbles a quick ‘thank you’ before Y/N softly shuts the door after their awkward conversation and runs into Spencer’s bedroom, where he is lying on his bed, still clad in a pair of pyjama pants and shirtless.

“To answer your question about shrimp, the mantis shrimp can see more colours due to it’s-”

As Spencer starts answering her previous question, Y/N places her hands on the sides of Spencer's neck to gently interrupt him. 

“My love, I normally would never cut off your rants, because I love you and I love your brain. But Derek is outside waiting for you.”

“What? Derek? Why is he here?” Spencer says, jumping out of his bed, putting on a shirt. Much to Y/N’s displeasure. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I just tried to get out of there fast because I’m only wearing this.”

“Derek saw you like this?”

“Hon, don’t be jealous.”

“Why were you answering the door dressed like that anyway?”

“I thought it was our dinner.” Y/N innocently said, genuinely thinking it was their dinner they had ordered. 

After getting dressed Spencer opens the door, him now coming face to face with Derek, Y/N staying out of view in the kitchen 

“Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hi. Um.. Wha-What are you doing here?”

“Other than clearly disturbing your romantic evening?.. Hotch called, we have a case and I was close by so I said I would pick you up. I thought you would be alone…”

“Oh, well I’ll get my go bag and we can leave. Come in.”

Spencer left the door open for Derek to enter the apartment, walking down the hall to his room. Derek walked inside, not even having a chance to talk to Y/N, as Spencer was speedily reentering the room.Spencer presses a quick, loving kiss to Y/N lips, they mumble their goodbyes, before Spencer ushers himself and Derek out the door. Derek and Y/N yelling out their own goodbyes before they’re gone.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, pretty boy.”

[sunsetkerr]

Y/N L/N BREAKS DOWN 'CORNELIA STREET' | s.kerr

summary: you breakdown the story behind and the lyrics of your song 'cornelia street'. [1k words]

pairing: singer!reader x sam kerr

notes: classic genius video

[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND, Y/N SITTING]

Y/N L/N: Hi, I'm Y/N L/N and today I'm breaking down my new single 'Cornelia Street'.

'CORNELIA STREET: THE BREAKDOWN'

[CORNELIA STREET INSTRUMENTAL PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND]

[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND. Y/N SITTING, A SMILE ON HER FACE]

Y/N L/N: I wrote this song about my girlfriend, Sam and how we kinda came to be? I guess? It's about realising how much a newer love means to you and how much it could ruin you.

[INSTRUMENTAL PAUSES]

Y/N L/N: Well.. that was a little dramatic, wasn't it?

'WE WERE IN THE BACKSEAT DRUNK ON SOMETHING STRONGER THAN THE DRINKS IN THE BAR // "I RENT A PLACE ON CORNELIA STREET" I SAY CASUALLY IN THE CAR'

[STUDIO; PALE PINK BACKGROUND. Y/N SITTING, A SMILE ON HER FACE]

Y/N L/N: These lyrics reference one of the first times that I ever met Sam. She was in London and playing for Chelsea, I was there co-writing with another artist at the time and we were introduced by some mutual friends. We ended up in an Uber together after a night out and she asked what I was doing in the UK, and I told her about a little apartment that I rented at the time.

[CUTS TO A CLOSER SHOT OF Y/N'S FACE]

Y/N L/N: She soon became very very well acquainted with that apartment.

'WE WERE A FRESH PAGE ON THE DESK FILLING IN THE BLANKS AS WE GO // AS IF THE STREET LIGHTS POINTED IN AN ARROWHEAD LEADING US HOME'

Y/N L/N: Sam and I weren't really sure what we were doing at the time, if it was official or not, we were making it up as we went really. She's got a super busy schedule, her workload is very demanding. That was something we both came to terms with very quickly in our little 'will they, won't they' situation.

[CUTS TO Y/N HOLDING UP A POLAROID OF SAM POINTING TO THE 'CORNELIA ST' STREET SIGN]

Y/N L/N: I think we were really lucky that my schedule wasn't super hectic at that point in time, because I'm not sure how we would've managed it (CHUCKLES). Now we've been together for nearly two years, we've worked out a system.

'AND I HOPE I NEVER LOSE YOU, HOPE IT NEVER ENDS, I'D NEVER WALK CORNELIA STREET AGAIN // THAT'S THE KIND OF HEARTBREAK TIME COULD NEVER MEND, I'D NEVER WALK CORNELIA STREET AGAIN'

Y/N: This part is my favourite.

[CLIPS OF SAM FILMED ON A SUPER-8 FILM CAMERA, Y/N IS FILMING. SAM IS LAYING ON THE COUCH LOOKING OVER TO Y/N, SHE WAVES SHYLY FROM HER SPOT UNDERNEATH A GREY THROW BLANKET]

Y/N L/N: It's pretty self-explanatory to be completely honest. I don't plan on losing her anytime soon.

[B-ROLL FOOTAGE; SAM SITTING ON A CHAIR BEHIND THE CAMERA, WATCHING Y/N SPEAK. A BIG SMILE ON HER FACE]

'AND BABY, I GET MYSTIFIED BY HOW THIS CITY SCREAMS YOUR NAME // AND BABY, I'M SO TERRIFIED OF IF YOU EVER WALK AWAY'

Y/N L/N: I had never watched football before Sam... like, ever. I wasn't a fan, I had no interest in it. So when we started dating she took me to my first ever game and I watched her play again Man City. The crowd just loved her (Y/N SHAKES HER HEAD IN DISBELIEF). I never realised how much Sam could hold thousands of people in the palm of her hand. They adore her.

[CLIPS OF Y/N ON THE BIG SCREEN AT A CHELSEA GAME, PANS TO SAM ON THE PITCH, SMILING UP AT THE FOOTAGE]

Y/N L/N: It was funny because.. we had just gotten back from flying from.. somewhere? who knows. but Sam had gotten in the morning of the game and the crowd did this chant. It was 'even with jet lag, she's better than you' (LAUGHS).

[CLIP OF THE CROWD CHANTING 'EVEN WITH JET LAG SHE'S BETTER THAN YOU'. SAM TURNING AROUND TO LOOK AT THE CROWD SHYLY]

Y/N L/N: I mean it's true (SHRUGS). I was so taken aback by how much they all just loved her, but now whenever I sit in the crowd section, I make sure we chant it... it's my favourite.

'BACK WHEN WE WERE CARD SHARKS, PLAYING GAMES, I THOUGHT YOU WERE LEADING ME ON // I PACKED MY BAGS, LEFT CORNELIA STREET BEFORE YOU EVEN KNEW I WAS GONE'

Y/N L/N: There was a moment before Sam and I officially got together that I almost.. ran away? kinda.

SAM (OFFSCREEN): Kinda?!

Y/N L/N: (LAUGHS ALONG WITH THE CREW) I did, I completely did. I for some reason just got really nervous that she wasn't as serious about it. I had lots of conflicting feelings at the time, but Sam was very quick to get me back on track and make me realise what the important things were.

'BUT THEN YOU CALLED, SHOWED YOUR HAND, I TURNED AROUND BEFORE I HIT THE TUNNEL // SAT ON THE ROOF, YOU AND I'

Y/N L/N: She fixed it all, as she does. Sam is very good at that.

[CLIP OF Y/N AND SAM KISSING OVER THE BARRIER OF CHELSEA'S HOME GROUND]

Y/N L/N: She fixes everything.

'YOU HOLD MY HAND ON THE STREET, WALK ME BACK TO THAT APARTMENT. YEARS AGO, WE WERE JUST INSIDE // BAREFOOT IN THE KITCHEN, SACRED NEW BEGINNINGS THAT BECAME MY RELIGION, LISTEN'

Y/N L/N: I don't stay at Cornelia Street anymore, Sam and I live together now when we're both in London. We went back before I wrote this song and it was so surreal to realise that someone else was now in that apartment.

[PHOTOS OF Y/N AND SAM FADE ONTO THE SCREEN, ALL FROM INSIDE THE CORNELIA STREET APARTMENT]

Y/N L/N: We spent so much time in that apartment it was like our first home together. Really it was just a place for us to spend our down time. I love that apartment and I try to go back every time I'm in London... which is a lot. So, thanks to Cornelia Street for having me and thank you to Sam for having me.

[CUTS TO A CLOSE UP OF Y/N]

Y/N L/N: I'm very lucky.

[ghost-in-the-fog]

Hi. Big positive rant incoming, bear with me.

*Ahem!*

Holy mother of God, I didn't think it was possible for me to love Steve Barton's Krolock more than I did but god damn. And Cornelia Zenz is spectacular as well. She really makes me believe she is in love with him. There's so much going on here that is is making me lose my marbles. First of all, these two have amazing chemistry. I am partial to shipping Sarah and Krolock because of them. The body language. The eye contact. Speaking of eye contact...

Yeah, that way he's looking at her from the top of the stairs around 2:28 and onwards until he comes down the stairs, is some intense stuff. If my scene partner was looking at me like that, there is a very high chance I could not hold eye contact for maybe a second, before my knees decide to just give way.

He's so focused on her. Like there's nothing else that matters at this moment but her. Like time has stopped and it's just them. The way he sings his verses, I think he believes that she is the one. The one that can love him, despite what he is. And she knows very well what he is, considering how she bares her neck to him. She wants to be what he is.

I've seen a few interpretations of Krolock on YT, where they lean into "he's only manipulating her, so he can have her blood" but I'm not really getting that vibe here. I don't know if 'earnest' is the word I'm looking for, but Krolock looks some kind of way here, how he looks up constantly. I think it's hope he's feeling. I don't want to say there's a nervousness about him, but it's almost like at some points, he doesn't want to touch her or let her touch him, because he fears potentially losing control and harming her. I don't think it's a one sided infatuation. The way Sarah looks at him at 4:47 is amazing. She has fallen for him and it shows.

AND HOLY SHIT THE WAY HE BELTS AT 5:05, 5:16, AND 5:33. WHAT A FUCKING UNIT.

His voice is so gentle during the closing section. Almost tender. Like he truly cares about her and holds himself back for her sake.

Also, someone in the ensemble sounds so pretty during the "sei bereit, sternkind" bits and I really like that person's voice.

Mmk, silly little rant over, I adore this cast and acting choices!

[chlmtsdoll]

I know this might be a weird request, but could you do a small blurb for Tashi x latina/hispanic!reader?? Like imagine Tashi learning spanish so she can speak to reader’s parents, it’s so cute 🥹

Ok so this might be insane 😭 but I actually lived in a Spanish speaking country for a year and picked up absolutely 0 Spanish, so I had to use google for this BUT I tried my best !!!! I’m very american lol

She would just be so considerate about your language/culture and wanting to understand better when you two would travel to visit family together. 🤍 You adored her strive to perfect every pronunciation even if it was a little shaky and brutal at times.

Even on the tennis court she requested you replied to her in Spanish so she could pick up the language faster — tennis was always her go to on enhancing any skill. So when you were skipping up and down behind the net as you hit back another tennis ball after the other, breath shaky and you bent to rest on your knees,

“Están bien mis salones?” You panted and you watched the tall lean woman’s eyebrows furrow as she fingered with the netting of her racking to stand in thought for a moment.

“Are- are your legs.. okay ?” Tashi questioned back to you and you could only drop your head in laughter at her attempt to understand you, picking yourself back up to reply to the woman on the other side of the net.

“Are my lounges okay?” You smiled fondly at your wife and she snickered a little as she put the words together in thought, backing up to get back in position to toss you another ball.

“Right, right… um- ellas son.. geniales.” Her pretty lips upturned into a grin as she took note of the way your pronunciation before responding. And you perked up happily as you got back into position. She was getting it slowly but surely

Later that night back in your hotel room, you’d been trying to catch up on beauty sleep for a small dinner your family arranged to finally meet your tennis star wife that they’ve heard so much about. You could feel Tashi quietly mumbling Spanish phrases to herself at midnight, and even though she was trying to be as quite as possible not to wake you up — you couldn’t help but listen in. The corners of your lips turning up into a smile from your side of the bed.

Her devotion to get some more context down for you and to impress your family was sweet, you were reminded why you fell so deeply in love with the woman and her strong drive to be good at so much at what she does, and of course all the came to you.

“tu.. tu casa es- hermosa.” Her sultry voice whispered out to herself in the night. “Me siento muy honrado de pertenecer a tu hija.”

Your heart fluttered. You knew she’d be absolutely perfect tomorrow for your loved ones. She even wanted to wear the baby blue and white sundress that you picked out for her when you two visited Spain last year, she agreed to wearing a Cornelia in her soft locks to complement her caramel skin, she would be absolutely gorgeous and you couldn’t wait.

[jomiddlemarch]

A letter always seemed to me like immortality

Everyone Diana wanted to write to was dead.

Walter, what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago, at Courcelette if his last letter to Rilla was to be believed; Diana had often wondered whether he had already considered himself a dead man walking before the day of the last battle, the boy he’d been destroyed beyond repair or rebirth.

Aunt Leslie, whom she’d found it easier to talk to than her own mother, perhaps because she’d also had a brother she adored. Perhaps because she’d left Glen St. Mary and never missed it. 

Perhaps because Leslie liked whiskey better than tea, newspapers better than poetry. 

Una, who’d been too pale since she barely survived nursing her father and stepmother through the Spanish flu, who’d been someone everyone underestimated or decided to treat as a martyr, who would not have judged Di the way her own sisters would. 

Rosalind Foyle, whom she’d had to ask about as discreetly as she could, counting on her general reception as a cheerful and polite Canadian, not much like a bossy Yank, to yield her the few details she’d squirreled away. An artist, a mother. A beauty. Better-bred than her husband, well-liked, she’d had elegant hands and never forgot to wear gloves.

Diana only wore gloves to operate and if an actual gale was blowing in a blizzard.

Who had thought all she wanted was to go to France, to make something of her life that would last her the rest of it. That might make the rest of it of a duration she could bear, an end her family could cope with or justify why she’d never return to PEI.

Dear Una, You’re the best one to write to, I think. The one who’d mind the least, like it the most. The least awkward for me to imagine reading this, the least likely to tell me something I don’t want to know. I leave for France in a few weeks and now I don’t want to go. Or rather, I do and then I don’t. There’s something holding me in England now, something to do with Walter, a mystery. Men, who’ve died. A man who’s alive, very much so.

A man I want to know. His name is Foyle. Christopher. He knew Walter, said Walter knew him as Kit. Everyone calls him Foyle or sir or Superintendent. Christopher. Oh Una, I thought this was behind me. That it was something I’d never have to deal with, some sort of consolation of being a woman in a world missing a generation of men. I thought I wouldn’t know this and that was a relief, watching you and Rilla and Nan. Faith. Mary. I thought it was fair, that I’d never know heartbreak like this. And now there’s Christopher. A half-dozen dead men. Walter’s poem. And France, waiting for me. I have to go, I know that, but how do I go wanting to stay here, a place I can’t call home. Wanting to come back.

Christopher. I like writing his name because I oughtn’t say it often. That’s what a young girl does, lovesick, dull, embarrassing herself, making everyone around her smile behind their hands unless it’s Miss Cornelia, scolding you for making a fool of yourself and for what, a man? What’s a man worth, I ask you—can’t you hear her say it, tart, ready to wash her hands of us— I don’t care what a man’s worth, Una. Just Christopher. And I can’t answer the question, not to satisfy Miss Cornelia or you or myself.

You’d write me back something comforting, if you could. If you hadn’t died before your time, twice over, after the telegram, after the epidemic. I should have insisted you leave before me or with me. I should have told your father you were worth more than all the rest of them put together or made Dad send you away to convalesce, somewhere warm, where you might have lolled about, turning brown in the sun. I’ve said I’ll go to France and sew up the men who need sewing up. Cut off the parts that need cutting off. I’ve said that’s my life, my vocation, as important as Mother’s poetry, as Walter’s, as the babies Jem delivers and the columns Ken Ford writes, and it must be but now there’s murder and Christopher to contend with, a dozen mysteries at the heart of me. For it seems I’ve a heart after all, Una. It beats and beats and leaps when it oughtn’t. It will break, I know it shall.

Christopher. I’ll take a dream in lieu of a letter. A flower, out of place, in lieu of a word. Answer me if you can, Una. You can’t and I know that, but I’ll still hope, silly Di Blythe.

She put the letter in an envelope but left it unsealed and unaddressed.

Left the envelope in an otherwise empty drawer of the desk in her flat. If she didn’t return from France, well, that didn’t bear thinking about too closely. If her papers were sent back to Canada, her father would likely burn the letter rather than let her mother see it unless if gave it to Nan, thinking her twin would derive some comfort and, happily married to Jerry, the bonny wife and mother Di had not made of herself, could weather any pang it gave her.

If somehow it ended up with Christopher, he’d know how she’d once felt.

She could make that happen, writing his name across the white field of the envelope, but that was too much like a dare, and for all she was her father’s daughter, she still had her mother’s wise fear of the fey.

She’d written his name enough. She’d hope she’d come back to say it.

[queenflorencethefirst]

Cornelia always imagined having a slave to be kind of disgusting. But her relationship with George had never been disgusting. They met at university and sat next to each other in a seminar. As the two of them laughed a lot and got on well, they met up more and more often, sometimes even at Cornelia's house and had a beer on her balcony. George invited her round on the last day of their first semester together. He had cooked for her, an elaborate dish with white wine sauce and chicken. He spoilt her that evening, taking off her jacket and adjusting her chair, bringing her a cushion so she could sit more comfortably, pouring her a drink and putting the food on her plate. As always, they laughed a lot and talked about funny topics, but he really flourished in the role of host and waiter. She enjoyed his attention and the fact that he looked after and spoilt her so much. They had sex for the first time that evening. He wasn't particularly kinky, but even before he had taken off his trousers, she had come twice because he gave her such passionate oral sex with his tongue. He would have continued to lick her, but she grabbed him passionately and took off his trousers. Then she began to ride him. He visibly enjoyed it, but continued to play with her breasts and her clit as best he could.

After sex, she fell asleep in his arms and the next morning he made her breakfast. When she crawled out of bed, she thanked him and he assured her that it would give him great pleasure to serve her a little. He called her queen. She liked that very much. They didn't really talk explicitly about Kink at first. They continued to make love, he always took care of her first, massaging her, licking her, kissing her, making sure she had orgasms before he let her return the favour. A few weeks later, he pulled her feet onto his lap as a matter of course when they were studying and massaged them while she quizzed him. It was pleasurable and so she let him do it often. At some point, she put her feet on his lap on her own and soon he sat directly on a lower stool so that he could massage her feet better. He adored her and she enjoyed it. It just felt right. At some point, she naturally sent him to fetch water as soon as she was thirsty, always let him kiss her on the cheek as a greeting and even sat on his face during sex to experience even more intense pleasure. They didn't talk about each other until the end of the second term. ‘Am I like your boyfriend?’ he asked her. ’Yes, in a way you are. Or something like my private servant. My puppy,’ she joked. He blushed, visibly aroused. ‘Maybe I am,’ he said.

She grinned. ‘You know, maybe that's like my kink,’ he admitted. She laughed softly, pulled his face towards her and kissed him. ‘And maybe it's kind of like my kink, too.’ They started sending each other videos and photos of femdom and flr aesthetics. They realised that they had naturally slipped into a flr. He liked to wear collars at home and she got kinkier during sex. She also loved to incorporate punishment games in the bedroom when he didn't behave well enough. He asked her permission before going to the toilet and only had orgasms with her permission. She took good care of him in return. And before they knew it, they were not only girlfriend and boyfriend but also mistress and slave.

[bookns]

How much I think Percy Jackson characters like Taylor Swift:

Percy: 100% a swiftie. He’s a reputation and lover stan but has a special spot for state of grace (your my Achilles heel lyric is the reason why) and loves this is why we can't have Nice things (its the mama lyric). and obviously 1989 is the album the got him really into Taylor. Dancing around to you are in love with Annabeth in his moms living kitchen. and he loves welcome to New York (no shit)

Annabeth: adores her. Speak now stan. Better than revenge TV was on REPLAY when Rachel was around. Cries to The Last Time (TV). She has a special spot for RED TV because that is the album she played during Percys disappearance and lets just say she can't listen to forever winter without crying. Associates happiness with her dad and my tears riochet with Luke. Loves Cornelia Street because to Annabeth, she thinks of the sea and how the boy with sea green eyes will always be there.

Grover: debut and fearless stan. Is the one that introduced Percy to Taylor when they were all 12. Loves playing hey Stephan and I’m only me when I’m with you on his reed pipés. It reminds him of Juniper

Thalia: not really (I hate to say it as a Thalia lover) but she doesn’t mind as long as she doesn’t have to hear shake it off on Grover’s reed pipes

Luke: NO. He listens to Kanye and hates Taylor "she only writes about the guys that did her wrong" and thinks Annabeth is childish because she listens to her

Clarisse: vibes to reputation with Silena. She can’t listen to anything Taylor ESPECIALLY lover without silena in her mind. she hears the opening lines to long live and cries

Silena: biggest swiftie at Camp. Is a Midnight and Speak Now girlie (a WCS girlie - she replaces the 19 with 13; the age Luke munipated her) also Loves high infidelity for some reason. People think she loves Lover which she does but Speak Now means more because that was the time she became a swiftie. She remembers acting out Speak Now (the song) with her sisters Lacy and Drew, as she used her crush Charlie to be the guy that her (the wedding crasher) ends up with. Loves castles crumbing and nothing new

Connor Stoll: No but he steals the vinyls for Silena to play on the loud speakers of Camp because she would use secrets against so he was under her

Travis: he would deny If anyone asked but he listens to the way I loved you and thinks of Katie. No one thinks he likes Taylor but folklore is his favorite

Katie: she loves Haunted stan thanks to Silena and believes that Long Story Short is her song

Beckendorf: Listens to Lover and imagines a small house where he and Silena can leave the Christmas lights till January. Thinks about making the Red TV ring for her. Likes Reputation (but more endgame and bad blood featuring Kendrick Lamar)

Nico: no. I'm sorry. Thinks she's overrated

[speakyn]

I just finished watching The Knick.. where do I begin?

Pros:

what isn't phenomenal, man. the acting, the cinematography, the costumes, the medical stuff... it was perfection

Clive Owen. That's all. GOD that man was going through the worst shit, but at least he looked good (this is also the first time I've seen this man in literally anything)

Harriet and Cleary are absolute legends

Bertie is such a sweet one 🙏 no one deserves him tbh. He's the only one that is sorta doing well and not going through any shit. This man won the game

I adore John and Abigail together. I'm glad John had the wits to tell Lucy that what they had wasn't really real, cause it wasn't. It was for her, but in general, it was just something they did emotionally(for me). Was he a dick for telling her that so randomly? Absolutely. Was it for the better? Yes. I like how John doesn't seem in any way hesitant of Abigail just because she has no real nose. He cares for her so much, even after she has lost it

Edwards deserves better smh

The only good thing about Gallinger is his love for Eleanor. She's mentally ill and not once does it cross his mind to leave her behind. Good job, the only part of your character that isn't despicable

Love Cornelia going on an investigation. She was truly Sherlock Holmes(SHE DESERVES BETTER)

Genevieve is an angel

Cons:

I enjoyed Lucy in S1 and I really felt for her when she was with her Dad, but for the rest, I felt like she was so lacking in s2. I didn't even like her at some point anymore. I feel she was too much defined by the men around her.

The Sisters are such assholes. Church sucks

Why does the music sometimes sound like it belongs in a horror film 😭

Barrow manages to get in debt with every fucking person he meets

Gallinger is a piece of shit (good character though)

Fuck the Showalters (they're assholes)

Not a con, but John is such a fucking idiot. Like bro. You'd really think you would be able to do surgery on YOURSELF without any problems? Who do you think you are, Gregory House?

Soderbergh, you outdid yourself

[folkwhore1998]

swear to be overdramatic and true to my...

lover

I am a pink girly through and through. Taylor's album aesthetics are so different from one another, and of course, I may be biased but I just love this album aesthetic so much. It completely screams summer. This is the album to roll the windows down and sing with your friends in the car, fall in love, yell at a man, cry... Who knows!

Miss. Americana highlights a large bit of the Lover era and Taylor's thoughts while making the album. The clip in that documentary where she discusses how this is really her last opportunity to do something big in music is so emotional to watch. Reason 1 is that it is a hard headspace to be in. Reason 2 is that it was the furthest thing from the truth. Seeing the shift in her stardom from then to now literally makes me emotional you guys. She had no idea what was going to happen for her. Don't get me wrong, she was already insanely successful, but things are so different for her now.

There is a lot of discourse about how reputation is the real Lover, and Lover is the anxiety that comes with being in love. Some have also said it is wearing the rose colored glasses and being blinded by love. Either way, it is a beautiful album that I will ride at dawn for.

It has a mix of everything... mushy love songs like Lover and Cornelia Street, songs with empowerment like The Man and You Need to Calm Down... self love with Me! and the deepest song being Soon You'll Get Better.

Soon You'll Get Better is a song that means so much to me. My Mom was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer when I was 19 and lost her when I was 22.For me, it was the song that got me through it. The song that encapsulates the helplessness of seeing someone you love be so sick but desperate to do everything and anything to have them get better. It goes back and fourth between denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Denial: I'll just pretend it isn't real. I know delusion when I see it in the mirror. Anger: And I hate to make this all about me. But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do, If there's no you? Bargaining: Holy orange bottles, each night I pray to you Desperate people find faith, so now I pray to Jesus too Depression: In doctor's-office-lighting, I didn't tell you I was scared Acceptance: This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because, Cause I have to

It is something you don't understand until it happens to you. I am heartbroken for anyone who understands while simultaneously being thankful I have someone who understands. It helps me to not feel so alone and I've never heard a song like it.

Here are my rankings for the album, Lover (Taylor's first fully owned album!!!)

Cornelia Street, Soon You'll Get Better (don't make me choose) Daylight Lover Cruel Summer Death By A Thousand Cuts Paper Rings Me! The Man London Boy You Need to Calm Down The Archer False God Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince Afterglow I Forgot That You Existed I Think He Knows It's Nice To Have a Friend

My favorite Lover Era Moments:

she's so real for this

one of my favorite performances

Here is the link to the beautiful framed print: I have a ton of these in my house. I print them at walgreens and put them in a frame! I get tons of compliments on them.

Here is a direct link to the storefront:

Here is a link to the lover live from paris vinyl costers:

Here is the direct link to the storefront:

@taylorswift @taylornation

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hello there!

I’m currently searching for more books to read. Although, my reading list is quite full (43 right now) I kind of want more. Do you have any recommendations?😊

Love you and have a fantastic day/night/whenever you like to answer this!❤️

HI ANON MAGGOT LOVE YOU TOO! This is literally the perfect ask because I've been meaning to recommend some books but never got around to it.

OKAY LOIN THY OILSACKS OR SOMETHING HERE GOES:

YA Fiction:

I Wish You All The Best by Mason Deaver, it's a beautiful story about a nonbinary teenager with an adorable love interest.

Loveless by Alice Oseman, literally so fucking intense and amazing in both plot and character, the level of drama, it's an aroace coming of age story.

I Was Born For This by Alice Oseman, it's about a fangirl of a boyband and what happens when circumstances push her favourite member and her together. It's nothing like what you'd expect, and it feels like a real book about the real present times, yknow?

Inkheart series by Cornelia Funke (not sure if it's middle grade or YA but oh well), all three books were my childhood and rereading them now, there's so much more to them than I remember, the characters are so enchanting and the world is so intricate and fantastical. If you haven't heard of it, the premise is that a bookbinder named Mo can read aloud characters to life from books.

Classics/Older books:

Sherlock Holmes by ACD, the originals, literally so much gayer than any fanfiction could ever be. Like wtf. That shit is iconic and beautiful and Watson spends far more time describing Sherlock's 'nimble' fingers and 'thin sinewy muscle' and the 'dreamy look' in his eyes (ALL CANON FROM THE 1890s-1900s BTW) than any bloody deduction.

Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, I'm literally so pissed she isn't given as much credit as a serious writer as her sisters because holy fucking shit I adore Tenant of Wildfell Hall, the protagonist is such an iconic and gorgeous and strong woman with so much complexity and it's written so creatively.

Adult Romance:

Ali Hazlewood. All books by Ali Hazlewood. Can't narrow them down. She's a scientist and romance writer and her books are such fucking comfort food with the usual fake dating, enemies to lovers, those kinda tropes but set in STEM fields with amazing natural diversity representation, so much valid commentary on women in STEM, and idk I'M JUST FILLED WITH JOY AFTER READING HER STUFF.

OKAY I SHOULD STOP HERE OR I NEVER WILL BOOKS ARE MY LIFE OOPS LOVE YOU MAGGOT HAVE THE LOVELIEST OF DAYS BYEBYE~

[fayesemblemring]

actually now that you've finished AM and re: Paired Endings, did you get the paired endings you wanted? I remember when I went in blind and didn't know how the hidden support points system worked in regards to paired endings, I ended up with exactly no paired endings I was expecting or hoping to get, and a few people I knew playing the game at the same time as me ran into the same "wait, how does this work" conundrum bc we all went and got everyone to A or A+ supports with everyone else and therefore had a roulette wheel of paired endings.

also just in general, how did you enjoy AM?

I barely knew paired endings were a thing so I wasn't aiming for any one in particular (although I'm upset by the Felix/Ingrid one. I'm sorry Ingrid, you deserved better).

That said, having paired endings almost hidden from the player if you don't know (I'm guessing it's a selection of the A/A+ support pairs, but if you have multiple it selects one based on which has the highest support points) is... really weird. Why not just have S supports at that point and give the player the active choice of which paired ending they want?

As for Azure Moon itself, I quite enjoyed it! Dimitri's journey is the good shit, his relationship with Edelgard is just tragic and overall it's a really nice personal narrative.

But for the larger narrative, well... I have questions. And they are not the good kind.

Let's start with the smaller things first - Sothis.

Why is she even in the game?

I'm saying this as a huge fan of her- I adore her, I think she's so much fun. That said, if she's barely going to have screentime in White Clouds and is completely absent in Part 2, why even pretend she's going to be a primary character if she barely features in it?

I enjoyed Ch9 and 10 with her because she finally had her time to shine, taking initiative, coaxing Byleth into investigating a bit more and being a little gremlin when she convinces them to eavesdrop on Rhea. She finally has the presence she should have always had, but then she merges with Byleth and... that's it.

Poor Rhea is in an even worse situation in Azure Moon, being completely absent in Part 2. They tell you she has been secretly been imprisoned in Enbarr all this time but they never tell you why (my guess is it has something to do with Edelgard's monster form?), and then when you beat the game... Nothing.

Just a small line telling you she has retired and moved to Zanado.

The poor woman feels like a complete afterthought in this route.

Speaking of things feeling like an afterthought in Azure Moon, the Dark Snakes (the personal name I'm going with for Those who slither in the dark because I hate that name so goddamn much).

In White Clouds? Hyped up as a major antagonist.

In Azure Moon Part 2? Nowhere to be seen properly.

You only get Cornelia and Volkhard who have been very blatantly replaced with members of the cult, and yet no one seems to notice.

Dimitri will say straight to your face Cordelia's whole demeanor changed around a decade prior but never think "hmm, this sounds familiar", despite him mentioning Kronya a few chapters prior.

They appear in the final chapter but only as an extra boss you can stomp to get rid of a bunch of soldiers, and again - barely acknowledged. The rest of them flee when you kill their leader so the Snakes are still around scheming, but this is never addressed in Azure Moon, not even in the endings.

And I am not accepting "it will be explained in the other routes" as an excuse, because if you're going to treat every route as its own game, then the narrative of every single route has to stand on its own.

As it stands, the Snakes in AM only exist to make Edelgard look better by comparison in White Clouds and are almost completely ignored in Part 2.

And speaking of Edelgard - we need to talk about the whole deal with Fòdlan's unification.

This game is... weirdly fascinated with the idea. I can understand why Edelgard views it as an ideal - of course the future Emperor of an Empire would have an imperialist mindset.

The problem is that several other characters and the narrative itself portrays it a good thing, when if you think of it for a few minutes... It's not. The mere existence of the Kingdom and Alliance as well as two of the major wars in Fòdlan being for their indipendence proves that.

And look - Fòdlan has many, many problems. Rampant racism and xenophobia, class inequality exacerbated by Crests, you name it. But it being united under a single banner, especially if by force, does nothing to solve any of the issues and arguably makes them worse.

Hell, as fucked as the status quo at the start of the game is, at least there was a clear harmony between the four powers, and Fòdlan had been at a state of relative peace for almost a millennia until Edie did her, um, thing.

Shamir has a line where she mentions Fòdlan will probably split again eventually, and she's right - it's increasingly clear that Fòdlan being governed by a single power does not work.

Also I know I barely know Claude at this point especially because he's deliberately written as hard to read but I'm sorry- him just giving the Alliance to Dimitri is bullshit. Both because of what it represents, both because I don't buy it at all he would just do this (especially with Verdant Wind existing), and especially because you really want me to believe every single noble would be ok with rejoining under the Kingdom they declared indipendence from two centuries ago?

So the narrative ends up saying "oh it's not that Edie's ideals of a unified Fòdlan are fundamentally wrong- no, it's her methods and the fact that she wants to destroy the Church". And the cynical side me is thinking that in the large scale of things, the main difference between the routes is choosing which war criminal gets to govern the whole continent.

So while overall I enjoyed Azure Moon, I can't help but notice so many warning signs for things to come.

[crack-art-n-stuff]

yanderes in the empire??

Cornelia Agelastus.

Empress of the Crenovara Empire. Described as easily one of the greatest rulers in the empire’s history. Kind and generous towards the common folk. Fair and negotiable towards the nobility. Firm and strong towards her enemies. Not that the empire had many, at the moment.

She truly brought an era of peace for the people and you never needed to travel far to hear someone sing her praises for her rule. One thing, though……

Information on the royal family never seemed to leave the palace, outside of formal addresses. The empress’ concubines, and their children rarely ever made public appearances outside of birthdays, and even those were incredibly exclusive. It did put the common folk off a bit, some wondering about this iron barrier that seemed to separate them. But life was good in the empire, so it was best not to bite the hand that feeds them, no?

An agonized scream rang through the halls, alarming the new maid that walked with her senior. The young girl flinched and looked over her shoulder as she remained in place, as if she’d see the source right behind her. To hear such things in the late night naturally would be concerning and unsettling. However, the older maid paid no mind, her steady paced step not faltering for a second.

After noticing the older woman continuing down the hall, the young woman hurried to catch up to her. “Mrs. Tillman, didn’t you hear that? Should we not check to see if anyone needed help? Someone could be hurt!”

The maid kept her gaze forward, one hand holding a candle to light their way, but she quickly linked her arm with the younger and picked up her pace. Softly speaking, she warned, “We’re in the 3rd concubine’s palace. I suggest you ignore any strange noises from this place.”

“What? Wait-”

“Please don’t ask questions right now. I’ll answer when we get out of here.”

The rest of their scurry was in unsettling and confusing silence.

Meanwhile, the owner of the screams was rything on the ground, clutching the front of their shirt. Right over their lungs.Once in a while, their screams form words. Pleas for their suffering to stop. Begging for a chance to redeem themselves and have another chance at life. Sadly, their executioner had no such mercy. Simply cold disdain and disappointment, ever present in his crimson eyes.

Eventually, the screams became chokes, that became gasps, which became silence.

The only light that filtered into the room was the moonlight that came from through the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows. They casted a near perfect spotlight on the elegant, statuestc figure and fresh corpse. 

“Remove this.” The cold voice finally spoke. Every word felt like icicles that formed in the deep winter. 

The guard standing by at the door, made quick work of the body, calmly carrying it out. Leaving the figure alone.

Turning  around and approaching the closed window, the man gazed at the clear moon. His power. His gift. ‘The Breath of Life’. The reason he was chosen as the 3rd of the empress’ harem. Using a special paint, any brush stroke he made could spring life anywhere. Such power was a clear benefit for the Empire. But that wasn’t An Shao’s motive. His reason for anything was the same as always.

His beloved empress, Cornelia.

Her grace, intellect, and beauty stole his breath away. She was why he was willing to leave his own country behind just to be at her side. If she never returned his feelings, he didn’t mind all that much. As long as he could be the closet beside her. And truthfully, he was. While they were not officially married and he was not named the empress’ husband, he had quite the knack for leading people. He also knew how and when to get his own hands dirty, so Cornelia’s would remain clean. Of course, not to her knowledge as far as Shao was concerned. He was aware she wasn’t stupid or blind. But she had never said anything about it to him.

They even had three children together. The 4th, 5th, and 6th princesses. Triplets. Shao adored them and wanted to believe Cornelia did, too. Somewhere in her heart.

But he knew better. No matter what, he wasn’t the apple of her eye. Unlike the 5th concubine. 

Some country bumpkin the empress met while passing through the countryside traveling to another kingdom.

Shao always hated him. His filthy brown eyes that reminded him of the mud that covered his rain boots. His disgusting short hair that constantly looked like a nest made by rats. Imperfect scars on his face from his worthless peasant life.

He could never compare to Shao, his crimson eyes that always burned with life and shone like jewels, his long silky hair that flew in a nice breeze, or his smooth skin accented here and there by small beauty marks. 

Shao was leagues ahead of that waste.

So, why wouldn’t she look at him like that?

Cornelia would smile sweetly and give that garbage such a loving gaze. She’d hold their child close, peppering their head and cheeks like little kisses. She’d happily greet him with a warm embrace.

That useless waste of space received love, attention, and affection that RIGHTFULLY belonged to Shao.

Some days that information felt like a stake through his heart and nearly drove him mad with anger. 

But he never faulted Cornelia. He could never.

It was that filthy peasant’s fault. He must have schemed something. He had to. Otherwise, how would he have stolen Cornelia from Shao?

Shao was determined to get rid of him and his annoying rugrats. Yet he was met with failure. Hence the merciless punishment towards his former servant.

All he had to do was get rid of those brats and secure one of Shao’s daughters as the heir to the throne. That would practically secure his place as Cornelia’s official husband and only love. That idiot just had to poison them. How could he fail?!

His face started to redden from anger, so he gently placed his forehead on the chilled window. Feeling it spread to his face, he took some deep breaths and closed his eyes.

He had to remain calm to achieve his tasks. He had to get rid of the trash to live happily with his empress.

This time, he wouldn’t be failed.