#the bookshelf limbo

[bemp0]

Ensayos sobre la empatía

[thepolishlynx]

The Bookshelf Limbo - Perfect book for my father

[myglassesareinkansas]

Anyways I’m now emotional thinking about how Bryce celebrates Casey’s birthday and how each year, as he grows in love with her, his gifts get more and more thoughtful even though it’s the bottom on the list of love languages for him

[lonelyfox16]

Somedays I hope things get worse, just so I can stop being stuck in this limbo. I am tired of waiting for the next shoe to drop.

I hate the place I live in, I want to change my job, I want to buy stuff that cannot fit in a suitcase. But I can't, cause this is "temporary" and I have no control of when it's going to end.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Limbo - part 4

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader x Han Jisung

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Synopsis: Lee Minho is the mysterious new accountant at your workplace, and he seems to have his sights set on you. But things aren't so simple when your ex boyfriend Han comes back into the picture. Can you and Minho make it work, or will you get back with Han?

Spoiler: Happy ending, eventual poly minsung.

Chapter Summary: You and Minho work back, things get steamy.

MDNI / smut

Taglist: open.

A/n: this story may be familiar to some. It’s a rework of one of my older stories where I’ve now changed my fem lead to be reader.

CW: this chapter - workplace flirting, potentially inappropriate behaviour, alcohol (one drink), choking, using a tie as a collar, stripping, blowjobs, face riding, office sex, protetcted p in v sex, rough sex, tender sex, comfort, pet names, safeword (not used), sex where you could get caught, pet names (kitten, but that's standard for minho)

A few night’s later, you found yourself working back at the office again. You seemed to do this a lot when Binnie and Hyunjin were in full gossip mode, which was happening more and more frequently now they had more to gossip about. They made it their personal mission to keep an eye on Minho “keeping an eye on you”. They were certain he was infatuated with you. But all you knew for certain was that you weren't getting your work done.

Eventually, you decided to call it a night. You packed your bag and turned off the light to the office, closing the door behind you as you left your workspace. The hallway was dark, except for a light coming from up the hallway. Someone had forgotten to turn their light off, or, someone was working back. Other than yourself, who in their right mind would be working back?

As you got closer to the source of the light you could tell it was coming from the accountant’s office. Minho’s office. You stopped short. What if Minho was in there? You weighed up whether to go ahead and see, or to turn and run the other way.

"Come on y/n, get a grip. You’re a mature woman, not a silly girl." Your words did not snap you out of it.

But before your head could make up it's mind what to do, you were walking forward towards his office, catching a glimpse of him through the glass window as you approached.

It was indeed Minho. He was sitting at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, head in hands, fingers tangled through his hair. He looked stressed. Paperwork was strewn all over his desk and he looked fucking exhausted.

You stopped at the doorway and knocked.

Minho looked up, startled, a wry smile crossed his face.

"No singing and dancing this evening, Kitten?" he tried to tease, but his words held no humour.

You pretended you didn’t hear his quip and wandered into the room. Your eyes scanned all the documents around him. It looked like a mess. Minho looked tired and fed up, and he reminded you of how you felt when she thought it was a great idea to buy some Ikea furniture only to find yourself in the middle of her living room floor, pieces all about you, and no idea where to put them. It was only a lamp table for fucks sake. Although after that you became an Ikea whiz and could put a bookshelf together in record time.

You weren't sure what to say. “Are you okay?” you managed, sitting down in the chair on the other side of his desk. He didn’t answer, so you took one of the documents to see what they were about. You probably shouldn’t be looking, but Minho didn’t stop you. The look of despair on his face began to worry you. 

“What’s happened?” you looked at him closely.

Minho laughed manically. “It’s…” he began. He didn’t look like he was up for telling you, but he surprised you with his next sentence. “Can you help me, y/n?” He waved his hands, gesturing over the strewn documents.

You looked down at the documents once again, taking a closer look at what they were. It looked like a report of some kind. At least five hundred pages of report, each page had holes down the side as if they had once been spiral bound.

“It’s the annual report.” Minho’s face changed from bewildered to pissed off. “I found it on my desk like this.” Again he gestured over the mess.

“I have to present this to the board meeting tomorrow.” his brow creased as he frowned.

You knew what he was asking. He wanted you to help him put the pages back in order. You sighed and picked up a bunch of the paper, scanning them, and began to rifle through the other mini piles on the desk.

“If we can find the contents page then we can at least get some order going on.” 

He looked at you thoughtfully, seemingly approving of your idea.

You both spent the next several hours piecing together the report, tediously and meticulously cross checking with the contents page, and using your judgement of what looked like the right order.

After a while Minho sat back in his chair, loosened his tie and stretched his arms up above his head. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled fully. Then he rested his gaze on you.

“Have you been avoiding me?” he asked all of a sudden.

“Huh?” You looked up from your busyness. You thought for a moment. “Hmm…no.” You shook your head.

“I hope not. I just… I thought we’d have more interactions than we do.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. “Um, well I guess my department and yours don’t really need to interact all that much.” You shifted your attention back to the paperwork.

You could feel Minho’s eyes fixed on you. Your cleared your throat awkwardly and looked up. “What?” You queried. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You eyed him suspiciously. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Suddenly aware of the tension filling the room, you quickly averted your eyes back to the report. Your cheeks felt flushed and your mouth dry.

“Thank you… for helping me.” He said low, still watching you.

You smiled in return, meeting his eyes again. You didn’t expect a man like him to have asked for help, let alone thank you with such sincerity. “Of course.” You said brightly but your insides were melting. You needed a distraction. “You know what?” You looked at Minho. “I think it’s coffee time, again.”

————————————

The two of you had been using the smaller kitchenette on your floor of the building rather the main one in the communal breakout area. You boiled the kettle and Minho spooned out more of that dreadful instant coffee. You'd lost count of the number of coffees you'd had so far tonight.

Minho screwed the lid back on the jar and turned to you, smirking. “So, y/n, tell me,” he leaned in close to your face grinning. “do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?” You shrieked. “What kind of question is that? Has no one taught you manners Mr Lee Minho.” You scowled.

Minho simply laughed. “Hey, I was only wondering if you had anyone at home who is subjected to your ridiculous dancing. That’s all.”

Your mouth hung open in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re such a shit stirrer? Can’t you just let it go about my dancing? Please?” You attempted to playfully punch him in the chest, but Minho was too quick. He grabbed your wrist, moving it back to your side, and gently pressed your back against the edge of the bench.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you, kitten?” Not that word again? He stood so close you thought he was about kiss you. His eyes were fixed on your lips, like he needed to taste them. But then he pulled away at the last second to finish making the coffees like nothing had happened. You shook your head to try and bring yourself back to reality. Did you just hallucinate? Was he playing some weird game with you? Was he interested in you?

“Let’s go get this finished, yeah?” he called over his shoulder as he headed back to the office holding the coffees.

What the actual fuck just happened?

———————————-

You continued to work on the report deep into the night. Every now and then you could feel Minho’s eyes drift over to you and linger for far longer than they should. It made you feel self-conscious, and lose focus on the task at hand. Please don’t look at me like that, you thought and swallowed hard. When you felt he wasn’t watching you, you would steal a glance at his toned arms, licking your lips at the sight of the protruding veins in his forearms and hands. It kept on happening, this back and forth between you.

“Oh my God! I think we’re finally done!” Your face lit up. You jumped out of your seat and held up her hands for Minho to high five. Minho appeared more relieved than excited, but he obliged in returning your gesture by slapping his hands against yours.

“I need more coffee.” You slumped back down in your chair and looked longingly into your empty coffee cup.

Minho opened his desk draw and pulled out a bottle of rum along with two glasses. You raised an eyebrow. Minho scoffed at your expression, standing up and walking around to the side of the desk where you sat.

“Fuck!” You checked the time on your phone. “It’s four o’clock!”

“It’s too late for coffee. Here.” He stated holding a glass out for you, then filled your cup. He took his own empty cup and the bottle of rum over to the two seater sofa at the other end of his office. You felt his gaze still on you as he sighed and relaxed into the cushion.

He filled his own cup, then plonked the bottle on the coffee table and slouched back into the sofa. His long fingers loosened his tie further and then he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt with one hand, revealing part of his chest.

The entire time he stared at you with an expression that made your stomach flip and desire pool between your legs. You couldn’t break from his gaze. Fuck. He looked like he wanted to eat you. His parted lips making you part yours too, as intrusive thoughts of what it might feel like to kiss him entered your mind.

He patted the cushion next to him “y/n, come sit with me.”

“I’m quite fine. Thank you.” You coughed.

Minho shrugged as if to say “Oh well, whatever”, and took a swig of his drink and leaned back and closed his eyes. Was he waiting for you to go sit next to him?

You screwed up your nose. He could’ve tried harder to convince you, you huffed to yourself.

He opened his eyes again locking them with yours once more, and then cocked his head to side gesturing for you to come and sit next to him.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You got up and went and sat on his left, leaning the side of your body against the back of the sofa so you faced Minho.

“You know, it’s against the company rules to keep alcohol in your desk draw?” You eyed him quizzically.

“What? Does it really surprise you that I have this?” he took a sip of his drink and paused in thought as he studied his glass. “You know, I rarely drink to be honest. I only have one of these a week.” He said flatly looking into his cup.

You secretly felt relieved. Minho’s eyes narrowed as he tried to read your expression. “You really are surprised.” He repeated incredulously and put the glass on the table.

You snapped out of your thoughts. “Oh! Yes. Well…I thought accountants didn’t break rules, you know. I didn’t know they were capable of it, actually.” You teased.

Minho leaned forward into your personal space, his face merely inches from yours. “Accountants are capable of a lot of things.” He whispered low looking you up and down greedily, and placed his hand on your knee.

Your eyes flickered down to where Minho’s hand was on your leg and then quickly looked back up, horrified. “What? So they’re capable of workplace harassment are they?” You spoke sternly, but inside you were actually a puddle.

Minho threw his hands up in an I-mean-no-harm kind of way and sat up.

But you were intrigued, and feeling flirty. Minho was an attractive man. He wasn’t nearly as difficult as people led you to believe. Plus, it was the dead of night. That time of night where it doesn’t feel like reality. Maybe you could try something?

“Minho?”

“Yes kitten?” Oh sweet Lord. You felt ashamed at what that pet name did to your body. Your stomach dropped. You felt a another rush of arousal head south, and you swore to God you just soaked your panties. You were fucked, and you knew it.

“Hmm?” he prompted you to continue.

With as much fake confidence as possible you continued. “Show me what accountants are capable of then.” You sighed.

A triumphant smirk appeared across his face. Oh he likes this challenge, does he? You thought.

Minho’s hand was back on your leg, this time a little higher up your thigh, and his other arm gripped you by the chin tilting your head up so you were looking him dead straight in the eye.

“Are you sure you can handle it? Kitten?” his voice was deadly. His mouth a centimetre from yours. You could feel his warm breath against your lips.

“Oh trust me, I can handle it.” You dared him. Both his hands came to rest on either side of your neck, his thumbs grazing your jawline. “We’ll see.” He said and closed his eyes and took you in a deep, hungry kiss.

Your body was on fire. Minho’s mouth hot and hungry as his tongue quickly found yours. He pulled back checking in on you with his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful, kitten. You make me want to do bad things to you.” He gently kissed your collarbone and licked his way up to your ear. “Will you let me, kitten?” he whispered.

You didn’t know what Minho had in mind. What he meant by ‘bad things’. You didn’t know, but you wanted to find out. “Yes, Lee Minho. This kitten will let you do bad things to her.” You whispered back as adrenaline and desire overtook you.

Minho leaned back and smirked. “I want you to strip for me.” His hand skimmed over your breast and down your waist, resting on your hip. “I wanna see what’s underneath these clothes.”

Your eyes widened. “Like right here? Right now?”.

Minho nodded. “Yes, right now.”

You bit your lower lip and sat up to kick off your shoes. You downed your rum in one go and slowly stood. You were nervous about what you had just agreed to. You definitely didn’t feel like the seductive type, how on earth were you going to strip for him?

Minho leaned back into the sofa, legs spread wide and an obvious bulge where he was sporting an erection. You gulped. He was staring at you with such a hunger that you honestly thought he was actually going to eat you. His almost black eyes drifted down your body as though he was imagining what you tasted like.

Nervously, your hands found their way to your blouse, shaking fingers began to unbutton your shirt. One. Two. Three buttons, and your purple lace bra was revealed.

“Purple. My favourite, Kitten. How’d you know?” he growled.

“Lucky guess.” You raised an eyebrow. Minho let out a gasp when you finished undoing all the buttons and slowly pulled the shirt off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor.

“The skirt.” Minho stated impatiently. His hand palming himself through his black slacks.

You were beginning to enjoy how Minho was responding to you. He seemed to be slowly losing his composure and it made you feel powerful and sexy. “You want this off too, do you?” you teased.

“Fuck yes.” He hissed.

As you unbuttoned your skirt, Minho unbuttoned his pants, and as you slowly pulled your skirt down over your hips, Minho released his cock. His eyes were fixed on your matching purple lace panties. Your eyes landed on his dick, making your core ache with need. You stepped out of your skirt and stood there, waiting for instructions.

“Come kneel down in front of me.” His voice was raspy with desire. You didn’t hesitate. He placed a throw cushion on the carpet and you positioned yourself between his legs. He leaned forward taking you in a heated kiss, plastering saliva all over your lips and face, then he peeled away panting and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I’m going to let you to suck my cock in a minute. But first,” he kissed your forehead. “I want to touch you for a little bit. If you want to stop at any point, use the word ‘podcast’… otherwise, I keep going. And you keep taking it.”

You let out a moan as his hands came to rest on either side of your neck again. You felt so vulnerable in his large, strong hands. Keeping one hand clasped around your neck, Minho’s other hand traced along the top of your bra. You shivered at how gentle and tender his touch was. He cupped your breast and let out a low groan as he squeezed the flesh. You kept still for Minho, you loved this feeling of him taking control like this. You watched his expression as he explored your body. His mouth hung agape and his greedy eyes made you feel desired.

Minho’s grip on your neck tightened slightly while his other hand made it’s way down towards your panties, pausing just before he actually got there. “Let’s see how wet you are for me, hmm?”

You felt Minho’s finger expertly move your panties to one side and slide up between your lips. You moaned at the pressure and how smoothly his fingers slid through your labia. Liquid heat filled your body, and you closed your eyes, losing yourself to the pleasure.

“Look at me.” Minho demanded softly. You opened your eyes and looked at him. “You’re pussy’s so wet. You’re cunt’s already ready to be filled isn’t it?”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes!” you squeaked. Minho’s hand gripped tighter, almost restricting your airflow. “That’s 'yes Sir' to you.” And he plunged two fingers into you.

You felt like you were going to drip your arousal all over the cushion. You had no idea that you enjoyed this kind of dynamic, but you were loving every second of it. You could feel that an orgasm was building rapidly as Minho dug his curled fingers against your g-spot. You were getting closer, your hips automatically seeking friction against his hand. He removed his fingers and placed one in his mouth, making you cry in agony. “You taste so good. Here.” He shoved his fingers into your mouth. “Suck them clean, kitten.” He bit into his lip as he concentrated on your mouth as you sucked your own juices off his fingers. “I need you to suck my cock now.” He finally let go of your neck.

“Show me how much you can take, Kitten.” He moaned as you set to work on his cock. You teased him for a little while. A kitten lick here, a swirl of the tongue there, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. When you could tell he was getting impatient you finally took him in your mouth.

“Ahhhh… yes Kitten. Like that. Good girl.” He moaned loudly. “Fuck your mouth feels good.” You quickly built up a slow and steady rhythm, combining your hand and mouth to work his entire cock. He had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. Decent size, perfect thickness, and the veins made you clench your vagina with need. You were hungry for his cock, greedy even. You took him as far back into your throat as you possibly could, trying your hardest not to gag.

“That’s it sweetheart… Mmmm… Show me how much you love cock.” He thread his fingers through your hair and pushed down on the back of your head, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. You couldn’t help but make a choked, gagging sound. You worried that Minho would be turned off by the sounds of you struggling, but he seemed to enjoy it even more. “Ahhh… fuck…that’s it…take it.” He groaned.

You could feel tears escape your eyes, no doubt making your mascara smear and run down your cheeks. It was probably just the way he liked it. Noisy. Messy. Dirty.

“What I want you to do now is take off your underwear for me.” You made to release his cock. “Na-uh. You keep my cock in your mouth.” He said sternly.

It was awkward, but somehow you managed to slip off your panties and unclasp your bra, tossing them to the side whilst Minho forced your head down almost the entire length of his penis.

“Okay. You can stop for now.” He patted your head, urging you to lift your head. “Fuck, you’re even prettier with your make up all over your face and dribble all down your chin.” He kissed you again, this time deep and slow. “How are you so perfect?” he whispered and gently closed his eyes for a moment.

He opened them once again, lust in his eyes and with one hand he lifted his loosened tie over his head and straight over yours, slipping it around your neck. You gasped as he turned the tie so it was backwards around your neck, and pulled it tight so that when he was finished it resembled a collar and leash.

Your eyes widened in anticipation as you met Minho’s eyes. He looked deranged and you swore you saw him snarl. “Kneel on the couch. Lean on the armrest.” He instructed with a raspy voice.

You climbed onto the couch and positioned yourself exactly how he wanted you. Exposed, vulnerable and restrained.

“Don’t fucking move an inch. I’m just grabbing a condom.” He got up from the couch and rid himself of his clothes. You watched him as he sauntered naked over to his desk to find his wallet, pulling a condom from it. The man look like a fucking god. You couldn’t wait for him to fuck you.

You felt him come up behind you, but instead of penetrating you, he laid on the couch so that his face was underneath you. “Sit on my face. I wanna taste you.” He pulled your hips down so you were literally sitting on his face, his tongue immediately found your entrance, sending electricity through your body. The bridge of his nose perfectly positioned to apply pressure to you clit. You ground down against his face while holding onto the chair arm for dear life. You worried maybe you would suffocate him, but he gripped your thighs and pulled you down harder whilst he pushed his tongue inside of you as far as he could reach.

Your lower body tensed, your legs became unstable, your mind was soaring in pleasure. “I’m gonna come, Minho… Sir… I’m fuck-“ You cried out as your orgasm hit. Your thighs trembled, your vagina clenched and released involuntarily, tears ran down your cheeks and whimpers flowed out of your mouth. Minho hummed against your core as you rode out your orgasm.

He supported your legs as you lifted off his face and returned to an all four’s position. “You taste so fucking incredible, kitten.” You turned to see his face covered in your wetness, a stupid fucked out grin on his face.

“Turn back around” he nodded his head directing you to face straight ahead while he positioned himself behind you. A tear of the condom wrapper and a moment later you felt him rub the head of his cock against your clit.

Then, holding onto the his necktie that was around your neck he pushed his length into you, stretching you open, filling you completely.

Minho’s exhalation was more a hiss, the tightness of your cunt affecting him. “Fuck, y/n… kitten… fuck you feel good”. He withdraw almost the whole way, then slammed back into you with so much force you cried out. “That’s so deep…ah…” you winced.

“Y/n, I know you can take it for me. A good little girl like you, I bet you can take a whole lot more than you’re letting on.” He slammed into you again. He let go of the tie to grip your hips instead. He needed to hold you still so you couldn't wiggle away when he pushed hard against your cervix. “Use your safe word if you need it, kitten.” He reminded you, giving you an option to stop. But every deep thrust was bringing you closer to another climax. Every impact of his cock against your cervix turning into a deeper pleasure. You didn’t want to ever stop.

“Is this what you wanted when you were watching me in the meeting?” He accused. “Or when you dancing so fucking slutty in your office? Do you know hard it was for me to not walk straight in and rip your clothes off?” He growled increasing his pace.

“I’m close…Minho.” You panted.

“Ya! It’s Sir, remember?" He dug his fingers into your flesh and delivered an even harder thrust.

“Sir!!!” You cried. “Can I come again? Please?” You were desperate now. You felt pathetic but loving every second of what was happening.

Minho pulled out of you entirely, flipping you over onto your back. He carefully, gently even, removed the tie from your neck then kissed you. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned at how erotic this entire encounter felt.

He pinned your legs up, almost folding you in half, and locked eyes with you as he sunk back into you. He leaned over so your faces were close, and brought a hand up to stroke your cheek. His eyes drifted from your eyes and your mouth like he couldn’t decide where to settle his gaze.

“I want us to be kissing while we both come.” He whispered softly. You searched his eyes, surprised by his sudden tenderness.

“Would that be okay, kitten? You think you’ll be able to come with my cock deep inside your cunt, and my tongue shoved down your throat?” His words were so dirty, but his tone was gentle.

“Yes, Sir.” You whispered.

Minho smirked and dove into your mouth with a wild frenzy, while he started to snap his hips against you. With angle of his dick hitting you in just the right spot, you dug your nails into his back causing him to cry out into your mouth. You smiled against him, knowing how you were driving him wild.

Minho slowed his assault on your mouth, allowing the kiss to morph into something more delicate. He rolled his hips as he thrust into you creating a different sensation to what you'd felt so far. His slow, rhythmic, deep thrusts coupled with the sensuality of the kiss threw you over the edge. You saw stars as your walls pulsed around his cock. You cried into his mouth and he groaned into yours as his hips hips stuttered and he filled the condom.

He remained inside you as he propped himself up on his elbows, and just watched you for a long moment.

“What is it?” You broke the silence. A warm smile spread over his face. “I’m relieved.”

Your eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“That you didn’t use your safe word.” He said. “I guess part of me was worried that I’d be too much.” He lowered his head.

“Minho,” You lifted his chin so you could see his face. “I’d never…had that kind of sex before.”

“I didn’t scare you did I?” His smile turned to concern. You shook your head. “I liked it.”

“Thank fuck.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure how I’d be able to show my face in front of you again if I I scared you…or hurt you?”

Minho withdrew his softened cock, and removed and tied off the condom.

“I need to get dressed.” You lifted your head to locate your clothes.

“Shhh… it’s okay. Don’t get up, I’ll get them.” He soothed. He helped you get dressed, slipping your panties and skirt back on. “I need you to sit up just for second.”

You silently obeyed, sitting up so he could help you put your bra back on and button up your blouse for for. “Lay back down. There’s still a couple of hours before work starts. Sleep.” He stroked your arm and got up, returning to cover you with his work jacket.

You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to him, but he was gone and you were asleep within a minute.

———————-

The next morning you sat at the conference table alongside Hyunjin, Binnie and Felix ready for another staff meeting. A hum of various conversations filled the room, while you waited for the meeting to commence.

“Hey y/n, weren’t you wearing that outfit yesterday?” asked Binnie looking you up and down.

You looked down at your clothes. You were a wreck. You didn’t even make it home last night. Putting the report back together took hours, and then, well. Oh fuck! You hung your head as you thought about the hot sex you had with Minho, on his office couch.

You went on to explain what happened the night before. The report, the sleeping at the office. You left out the sleeping with a co-worker part.

“That’s really odd. So he just found the report like that on his desk?” said Hyunjin. You nodded.

“Maybe it was a ploy to get you alone in his office.” Binnie poked, causing you to turn beet red.

“Nah. I don’t think so.” was Felix’s reply. The boys glared at him. “No, y/n. I didn’t mean it like that. You are beautiful and kind… It’s just…” Felix gestured for the others to lean in closer. He looked around the room and continued in a hushed tone “There have been some weird things happening here.” He looked around the room once more, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. “Seungmin in HR says that his files for the productivity report for the accounts section had been mixed up. Like someone had gone in and moved things around.”

Hyunjin laughed. “Come on, are you serious?”

“I am. Seungmin got in trouble for it, and because he couldn’t explain what had happened he was blamed for being careless. He’s spewing.”

“Hmmm.” Binnie appeared to be deep in thought, staring off. “Seungmin is meticulous. OCD style.” he paused while he was deciding what it all meant “I think it sounds fishy, Felix.” He concluded.

Felix pointed his finger at Binnie “Exactly!”

You took a sip of your espresso coffee. Your third of the day so far. It didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone bother to be so petty as to mix up files, tamper with reports? 

Just then Minho entered the conference room. Your heart skipped a beat. He looked dreadful too, his shirt still crumpled, his hair disheveled. Just having him in the same room as you made you feel nervous. To counteract how awkward you felt, you focused on the picture on the side of your coffee cup.

Felix leaned in to say something in Hyunjin’s ear, and then they both turned to you and looked you up and down.

You scowled at the pair and turned your attention back to the coffee cup. You hadn’t quite told your friends every detail of last night. You weren't going to tell them about how nervous you felt in the kitchenette making instant coffee with him. Or how he stood awfully close to you, calling you “kitten”. Or how you stripped for him before he fucked you on the couch. You felt yourself clench at the memory of his perfect cock inside of you.

You stole a quick look over at Minho at the front of the room. He was watching you, as though he could read your mind. You drew in a quick breath and felt your cheeks burn. Come on y/n, act professional.

———————————————

It was two in the afternoon and you were struggling to keep your mind focused. You poked at your computer keyboard trying to look busy, but you were fading away.

“You should just go home.” Binnie said from his desk.

“I know, but…” you shrugged. You didn’t want to go home. You wanted to see if Minho would reach out and speak to you about last night. Was it meant to be a one time thing never to speak of again? Was he expecting to do it again? Were you supposed to go talk to him? Thoughts of self doubt and confusion swirled around your tired head.

“Knock knock.”

The three of you looked up. Minho.

“Um… Hi.” You squeaked. Hyunjin licked his lips excitedly. Anyone would have thought it was Hyunjin Minho had fucked.

“I was just going to go down to the cafe, and wondered if you wanted to join me…maybe talk?” he scratched his head as though he was nervous.

----

“So…” Minho sat across from you in the cafe downstairs. “I want to make sure you’re okay. After last night.” He said.

You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes, but you knew he was watching you.

“Y/n?” Minho urged. “I need to know if what we did was okay?” You slowly looked up and met his eyes. There was concern behind them. He actually cared how you were feeling? What could you possibly say when you didn’t know how he felt about it? You didn’t want to presume anything and you didn’t want to look like a silly, desperate fool.

“I fucked up didn’t I?” he concluded from your silence. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and looked around the cafe.

“Minho, no!” You finally spoke. He returned his attention back to you. “You didn’t fuck up.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his hair.

“And I’m okay. Tired,” You laughed dryly “but… I enjoyed what happened.” A flicker of excitement flashed in his eyes. “Um…so yeah. I’m okay if we happen to do that again.” Oh fuck what did you just say? “I mean, either way, whether it happens again - or not - I’m okay.” You touched your cheek. You felt so flustered.

“I’d like it to happen again.” He said seriously, looking directly into your eyes.

You froze. “You would?”

He nodded. “Yeah I would, Kitten.”

———————————

You and Minho saw a lot of each other in the workplace. You'd make excuses to visit each other’s office, bringing the other coffee and sneaking little kisses in. Sometimes you'd do more, like the blowjob you gave him at his desk, or a quickie in the small kitchenette. He’d locked the door behind him, and took you from behind. He’d had a condom ready, and all he needed to do was lift your skirt up and pull your panties to side. You were ready for him. You always were. Just the thought of Minho made you wet and horny. You gripped the side of the kitchenette sink as he stretched you wide open and fucked you hard. Then he’d kiss you softy like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

Hyunjin would watch you suspiciously whenever you returned to your desk after a lengthy “short break”.

“You’re skirt’s crooked, girl.” He’d say and Binnie would roll his eyes.

Minho continued to call you “Kitten” in the hallway, smirking at how easily he could make you blush, and he’d undress you with his eyes in staff meetings, causing you to squirm in your seat.

You got to know each other in lunch breaks, sometimes chatting in the cafe, other times in the breakout area. You learned he came from SKZ’s rival company, that he volunteered several hours a week to some program, and he loved cats. But more importantly, you learned he was a kind person who seemed to have the best intentions for those around him.

You shared with him your love of podcasting and how you would use the company’s equipment for your own podcast. You made him promise he wouldn’t listen to it to, but you didn’t trust the look on his face.

It was truly a whirlwind office romance, and you felt yourself feeling happy for the first time in a long time. Maybe you were finally moving on with your life?

tag list : open

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @yaorzu-blog @drunkewok

[smilingformoney]

The Eternal Summer

BONUS CHAPTER: In Another Life

Summary: You're surviving but not living since your husband was murdered by Sweeney Todd. Now, his cousin arrives to administer the estate, but nothing goes as either of you expected.

AN: Do you remember when I asked whether Turpin should survive Sweeney's attack and the overwhelming response was yes? What if no? 🙂

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Eight months had passed since the death of your husband, Lord Turpin, and your life had been in limbo ever since. Not expecting to die so soon, he hadn’t drawn up a new will to include you, and so his estate in its entirety was to be passed to some cousin you’d never heard of.

Said cousin was living in Australia, and though a letter had been sent to him on your husband’s death, the months it took for ships to travel to the far-off land meant that the cousin that now owned the house you lived in was nowhere to be seen: until today.

You had found yourself a simple kind of routine living on your own as a widow. You weren’t allowed access to your husband’s money, so you were forced to make your own. You sold some dresses you’d made, and with the proceeds you bought more fabrics to make more dresses, and eventually you managed to establish a steady income for yourself.

You were in Johanna’s old room, which had become a de facto workshop, when you heard a knock on the door.

You peered out of the window to see a man at the door, face obscured by the hat on his head, waiting for your response with a suitcase at his feet.

Curious - and unable to send a servant, since you could only afford a cook or a maid and had opted for the former - you made your way downstairs and opened the door to greet the man.

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a ghost. The man looked strikingly familiar to your dead husband, if he had been a decade or so younger and sported a moustache and goatee. He was also very handsome.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Good afternoon. May I speak with the lady of the house?”

“You’re speaking to her.”

The man smiled and tipped his hat to you. “Ah, Lady Turpin, I presume. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Elliott Marston. I believe I own your house.”

Of course - a suitcase from a two-month journey at sea, a resemblance to your husband. This must be the cousin.

“I believe you do, sir,” you said with a small curtsy. If this man owned your house, he could kick you out at any moment - you had to stay in his good books, no matter what. “Won’t you come in?”

You stepped aside to open the door fully to him, and Elliott carried his suitcase into the hall, looking around at the house he owned but didn’t know.

“Would you like some tea, sir?”

“I’d love some, thank you.”

You showed him into the parlour room, then busied yourself in the kitchen making a pot of tea. When you returned with a tray in hand, Elliott was stood at the bookshelf, looking curiously at one of the books. He looked up as you entered, then placed the book back on the shelf and sat in one of the seats by the fireplace. You placed the tray on the small table between the two seats and poured a cup for each of you.

“Have you just docked from Australia, sir?”

“No, the boat docked in Liverpool, so I’ve just travelled from there. And enough with this ‘sir’ business, I don’t recall her Majesty granting me a knighthood and we are family, after all. Just Elliott will do.”

That took you by surprise; it was frowned upon to call anyone you weren’t familiar with by their first name. Even your own husband you frequently addressed formally, only calling him by his first name in intimate moments. Then again, this man was from Australia - perhaps they did things differently there.

“Well, in that case, I suppose you can call me [Y/n].”

You poured your own cup of tea and sat opposite Elliott. You were unused to hosting; whenever your husband had visitors, you were always to either stay out of sight or to be seen but silent. Making small talk with the gentry wasn’t something you had particular practice with.

“Did your journey take you very long? I hear Australia is months away by even the fastest boat.”

“Yes, it was two months at sea, but I’m used to travelling long distances. I own a lot of land in Australia, it takes days to traverse it. At least on the boat I had shelter from the heat.” Elliott sipped his tea and nodded his approval at your tea-making skills. “This is excellent. Did you make it yourself?”

“Yes, I - I have no maid,” you admitted in shame. “But I have a cook, so if you’d like to stay for dinner, I’m sure he’ll make enough for two.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you. [Y/n], I must admit, I can’t stand formalities and pleasantries. May I talk straight with you?”

“Oh - er - yes, of course.”

“Good. The truth is, I’m happy with my life in Australia and I have no use for a house and its contents in London. When I read the solicitor’s letter, my first thought was to write back asking him to sell it all and put the money towards something good, a school or something. But then I read on, and he mentioned that my cousin had left behind a widow who had no family to support her. Again, I thought about writing and asking everything to be given to you, but the way the solicitor spoke about you in his letter was frankly disturbing. He seemed to imply that he believed you married William only for his money and I worried that if I left it in his hands he’d leave you out on the street, so I decided to come here myself to execute the estate and do whatever I need to do to keep you in your home.”

Your hands were shaking, and you had to put your cup down lest Elliott notice.

“You… travelled here from Australia to ensure I wouldn’t be homeless?”

“Well, of course,” Elliott said with a casual shrug. “We’re family, aren’t we?”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You’d been so scared of him showing up to claim the house and leave you out on the streets, and yet here he was arriving to make sure that didn’t happen. “You are - you are most generous, sir.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I knew there was a lady out on the streets for the sake of my owning a house I don’t need. A good thing too, because a beautiful woman such as yourself would catch the eye of many an untoward lech. I’ll stay a while, if you won’t mind - it’ll take a while to sort out all the administration, and it’s been such a long journey, I’d like to make the most of London before I set foot on a boat for another two months.”

“Of course! You can stay in the master bedroom, I’ll make another room up for myself.”

“Nonsense, this is your home, I shouldn’t take your bedroom from you.”

“No, I must insist. You said yourself you’ve just been on a boat for two months. The best bed for comfort while you’re here is the least I can do.”

“Well, if the lady of the house insists, who am I to argue? Now, I’m going to get myself to the solicitor’s office before it closes for the day - what time does your cook normally serve dinner?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Perfect! I’ll be back by then. Thank you again for the tea, [Y/n], and for your generous hospitality.”

You stood to escort him to the door and gave him directions to the solicitor’s office. Your heart skipped a beat when he kissed your hand before heading off, and you realised only when he turned a corner and disappeared from view that you were even watching him go.

---

You were actually quite eager to have Elliott for dinner, even though you’d spent the last few months dreading his arrival. But now that he was here, and he’d assured you he wasn’t going to put you back on the streets, you were glad for some company and you found yourself buzzing around before dinner, making sure you and the house looked presentable, and by the time he arrived at a quarter to six, you were already ravenous.

“I forgot how cold this country is,” Elliott said with a shiver as he stepped inside, his hair damp from the rain. “I’m here one day and the Heavens open on me.”

“Is Australia much warmer, then?” you asked as you helped Elliott out of his coat.

“Oh, very much. Even in winter it’s hotter than a London summer. I’m used to the Australian weather, but I suppose to you it’d feel like an eternal summer.”

You led Elliott down the hallway towards the dining room.

“That sounds wonderful! I love summer, when everything’s so bright and warm - except for today, of course. But I assure you it’s usually much nicer than this.”

Elliott chuckled. “I’m sure it is. What’s for dinner?”

“Salmon filet and vegetables. I do hope you like fish, if I’d known you were coming I’d have asked chef for more choice —”

“Nonsense, salmon sounds lovely. I live very far from the sea, I don’t get much opportunity to eat fish.”

In the dining room, Elliott sat down at the table in what used to be William’s usual seat, and you busied yourself with making a fresh pot of tea.

“Have you always lived in Australia?” you asked.

“Ever since I was a child and my parents moved over as settlers. That’s why I was so surprised William left me his estate, to be honest. The last time I saw him, I was a child and he was at university.”

“Well, you’re the only family he had,” you explained. You brought the tray of tea over and poured each of you a cup. “He had no siblings and no children. You were all he had left.”

“He had you.”

You glanced at Elliott and blushed.

“Well… we weren’t married very long. He might have changed his will if he’d had time.”

“Mmm, the solicitor said William’s death was foul play. What happened?”

You told Elliott the story of Sweeney Todd and his plan for revenge on your husband, and you surprised yourself at how easy it was to talk to him. Even though you were talking about something awful, and though you did falter in your storytelling when you came to describe the way your husband had been killed, there was something about Elliott that made the story bearable to tell.

By the time you finished the story, the chef was bringing out your dinner.

“[Y/n]… I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Elliott said gently. “A sweet lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to witness something so awful.”

The image of your husband bleeding out in the barber’s chair flashed before your eyes, and you shivered.

“Yes, it was… quite horrible,” you said in a quiet voice.

“And you’ve been on your own ever since?”

You nodded and picked up your knife and fork, not even noticing that your hands were shaking. Elliott noticed, though, because he reached over to take your cutlery from your hands and cut your food up for you, making no comment on your reaction.

“I’ve been on my own… waiting for you,” you admitted in a quiet voice. “I thought you’d come here and send me into the streets. That you’re willing to let me stay… it means a lot to me, Elliott. Thank you.”

Elliott’s eyes flickered up to you and he smiled. He put your cutlery back down, then placed his hand over yours, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I won’t be responsible for your suffering,” he promised. “Now - let’s see if the salmon in London matches up to the salmon in Melbourne.”

You hadn’t enjoyed dinner so much in a long time, if ever. You’d had good conversation and laughter with your brother Tommy, but never good food. You’d had good food with William, but dinners were always a reserved affair. But with Elliott, you had the best of both worlds - the salmon was delicious, and you had to excuse yourself several times for bursting into laughter with food in your mouth, to the point where you wondered if Elliott was doing it on purpose.

“I refuse to believe there are truly creatures like that in the world!” you exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Elliott’s description of kangaroos.

“There are! I swear on my life. And they’re vicious things as well, I wouldn’t want to get near them. One of my men died from a single kangaroo kick.”

“I’m still not sure I believe you. If only I could go to Australia and see them for myself.”

“Well, maybe you can,” Elliott said casually. He took a swig of his wine, then said, “You could always come back with me.”

“Come… with you? To Australia?” You shook your head. “No, no, I couldn’t…”

“Why not? You say you’re alone here.”

“Well, yes, but…” You glanced around the room. “This is my home. This house - London - it’s all I know. I can’t just… leave.”

Elliott raised a hand soothingly.

“I understand. If you change your mind, the offer’s open.”

After dessert, you stayed in the dining room long after you were finished, talking and laughing, listening to every story he had to tell you about Australia. At some point you moved to the parlour room and rummaged in the cupboards until you found the pack of cards William kept for the nights he played poker with his lawyer friends.

Elliott showed you how to play piquet, and to both of your surprises you picked up the game quite quickly and even began to beat him after a while.

“Are you sure you’ve never played this before?” Elliott said with disbelief as you won your second game in a row.

“No, never! William never let me touch his playing cards.”

“A shame, because if you’re as good at poker as you are at piquet, you might have been his secret weapon. One more round before bed?”

“Alright.”

You won that game too, and you were pleasantly surprised that Elliott wasn’t angry that you’d beaten him, but rather impressed that you’d picked the game up so quickly. After a quick nightcap, you showed him to the master bedroom, then retired to Johanna’s old room, your workshop, to get ready for bed.

Elliott wasn’t used to sleeping in a nightshirt. It was so hot in Australia, he rarely needed to, but in London it was so cold that he had to wrap himself up a bit more. The bed you’d put him in was soft and comfortable, so even though the outside air was cold, he felt quite cozy as he placed his gun on the nightstand and climbed under the covers. It had been a long day - a long two months - and he was ready to drift off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was very nearly asleep when he heard a tentative knock on the door.

“…Yeah?” Elliott mumbled, sitting up in the bed.

The door creaked open and you appeared in the doorway, peering around the edge of the door as if frightened to impose - as if he wasn’t the one imposing on you.

“Sorry to disturb you, Elliott. It’s freezing in my room. Do you mind if I take the blankets from under the bed?”

“No, of course not. This is your bedroom, after all.”

“Well, actually it’s yours,” you joked as you slipped into the room and made your way to the other side of the bed.

“Hey, come on, it’s yours,” Elliott insisted. “My house, maybe, but your home.”

You sighed as you looked under the bed.

“Oh, drat, I forgot. I used the blankets to make some coats. Well, never mind.” You stood up. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Elliott.”

“Well, hold on,” Elliott said quickly as you went to leave. “You just said your room’s freezing. It’s warm in here and there’s plenty of room in the bed. Why don’t you sleep here?”

Your cheeks flushed red, and you gaped at him for a moment before collecting yourself.

“I - Elliott - wouldn’t that be… inappropriate?”

Elliott put his hands up in a show of innocence. “I won’t do anything untoward. I just don’t want you to freeze for my sake. Come on.”

He tugged the covers back on your side of the bed and patted the mattress.

”If you don’t get in, I’ll get out and sleep in the cold room, and what sort of hostess would that make you?”

“Well… alright, I suppose.”

You climbed into the bed, feeling warmer and more comfortable the moment you pulled the duvet over you and fell into your usual sleeping position.

“Goodnight, Elliott.”

“…Goodnight, [Y/n].”

When you woke the next morning, you were the warmest and most comfortable you’d felt in months. You had your arm wrapped around your husband’s warm body, spooning him for warmth in the cold winter morning. Your hand instinctively travelled down his torso and felt the familiar hard length he sported every morning.

His nightshirt had ridden up to his waist in his sleep, and so you had no barrier at all when you wrapped your hand around his length and stroked him lazily. You let out a contented hmm when you felt him twitching beneath you, his body responding to your touch.

He let out a small moan, followed by a sigh of your name, and you froze.

Your eyes snapped open, and reality came crashing down on you.

Your husband was dead. The man you were fondling was his cousin.

Before you had time to think, Elliott placed his hand over yours, encouraging you to resume your movements. You obeyed instinctively, not wanting to anger him by changing your mind when you’d already begun… and truthfully, a part of you wanted to keep touching him. It had been so long since you’d touched a man, and his length did feel so good in your hand…

Elliott made such sweet sounds when you rubbed him just right. He bucked his hips into your hand, encouraging more friction, and you obeyed by speeding up.

You knew you should stop. Elliott wasn’t your husband. Yes, you’d had sex with William before marrying him, but you weren’t much more than a glorified whore. You were nothing of the sort to Elliott, just the widow of a cousin he hadn’t seen for years… and yet he wasn’t rejecting your touch.

Your cunt was aching. You’d missed this. Waking up next to a warm body, making gentle love in the morning, both too tired to fuck as ferociously as you had the night before and would later in the day.

You were lonely. You were horny. And when Elliott rolled onto his back, it was instinct more than anything that caused you to slide your hips over his, your bodies pressed together, your height difference allowing you to get away with burying your head against his chest, avoiding looking him in the eye as you tentatively ground your wet cunt against his length. Elliott groaned and placed his hands on your hips just as you raised them, and you truly couldn’t say which of you made the movement that led to his cock slipping inside you.

You wanted to kiss him, but that felt too intimate somehow. Like kissing him, looking at him, would mean acknowledging what you were doing. If you kept your head down, busied your lips with grazing against his neck instead… you could focus on the feeling of his cock inside you as you rolled your hips, the sound of his gentle moans, the feel of his large hands on your hips, helping guide you as you rode his cock. If you didn’t look at him, you avoided the truth of what was happening.

It might not be right. But Lord, you needed it.

It was a chilly morning, but the room quickly warmed up, your moans and sighs filling the air and saying everything that needed to be said about what was happening.

You were both lonely. You both needed this act of intimacy. And you were both choosing not to speak about the implications of it all.

You came around his cock with a long, drawn-out moan, the tensions you hadn’t known you were carrying falling away, and you welcomed his seed as he came inside you, filling you up as his own tensions were carried away into the ether with your own.

You stayed motionless on top of him for a few moments, catching your breath. Then, when you moved off him, Elliott’s hands fell away from your waist and he made no protestations as you rolled out of bed and pulled your nightdress down, covering the sight of the seed running down your thigh, and left the room as if nothing had happened.

When you next saw Elliott at breakfast, you decided to act as if nothing had happened. You chatted amicably about your plans for the day, then cleared up your plates and made your way upstairs to work on your current dressmaking project.

In the evening, Elliott joined you for dinner, and afterwards you invited him to look at the dress you were making, since he seemed to show an interest when you spoke about it.

“I’m very impressed with your creativity, [Y/n],” Elliott said as he examined the half-sewn dress that sat on a mannequin. “Most women of your station would simply buy their dresses. I find the initiative quite admirable. I dabble with some creativity of my own - nothing fancy, mostly recipes - but I find it so much more rewarding than having something presented to me ready-made. Don’t you think so?”

“Oh, yes, I quite agree!” you said enthusiastically. “The ability to create - whether it be food, clothing, art - it’s what sets us apart from animals. It may sound silly, but… it makes me feel I’ve contributed to the world in some small way. So even if I died tomorrow, there would be some mark on the world that I left behind.”

Elliott looked at you curiously and smiled.

“That’s a beautiful way of putting it. Are these your designs?” he asked, pointing to the pile of drawings on the nearby desk.

“Oh - yes, but I’m afraid I’m not as good with a pencil as I am with a needle. They’re rather rudimentary drawings, but it at least helps me remember my ideas. Would you, um… would you like to see them?”

“Please!”

You felt your cheeks blushing harder and harder as Elliott looked through the drawings. You pointed out some of your favourite designs, those that were too extravagant for you to attempt to create, or just plain impossible.

“Remarkable. You truly have a gift, [Y/n].” He glanced up at you and chuckled. “Blush any harder and you might just come to resemble a tomato. You’re not feeling embarrassed, I hope.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I - I’ve never shown these to anyone before,” you admitted. “William… he was never interested. He let me sew because it kept me occupied when he was at court, but he had no interest in it.”

I prefer your clothes on the floor, he had said to you once, but you decided to keep that part to yourself.

“Well, it’s a shame. Are you going to work on it any more tonight?”

“Yes, I was going to put together some more of the bodice before I retire.”

“Might I watch you? Or would you prefer to work alone?”

“No, it’d… it’d be nice to have some companionship, actually. If it won’t bore you, that is.”

“Nonsense. You do what you need to do, I’ll make us both some tea.”

You worked late into the night, later than Elliott could stay up, and he made you promise not to work for very much longer when he retired to bed before you.

The clock in the corner of the room struck twelve, and you realised you should probably retire.

You readied yourself for bed, and shivered when you put your nightgown back on.

You hesitated, thinking. It wouldn’t hurt to share warmth again, would it?

When you poked your head into the master bedroom, Elliott was fast asleep, so you tip-toed quietly to your side of the bed and slid under the covers. Warm and comfortable at last, you fell asleep almost instantly.

You woke up to a soothing presence pressed up against your back, and this time you remembered that it was Elliott who was sharing your bed.

It was Elliott who was fondling your breast.

His arm was under your nightgown, holding you tight against his torso, and his fingers were lazily playing with your nipple. You could also feel his erection pressing up against your bum.

It was clear what he wanted, and you were surprised he hadn’t taken his pleasure from you already. You would often be woken up by your husband entering you in your sleep - he had to dispel his morning erection, after all, and he had to do it before he left for court. He couldn’t wait for you to wake up.

Elliott had no strict timings on his mornings, so perhaps that was why he was taking his time, groping you in your sleep until you were awake for him.

You rolled onto your back, hand reaching out to take Elliott’s length and guide it into you.

He ducked his head to take your breast in his mouth as he let you guide him to your entrance, and his ministrations must have aroused you even in your sleep, because there was no dryness to resist him as his length slid up your walls and settled comfortably inside you.

With each slow but firm thrust, your breasts followed the movement, and Elliott released your nipple from his mouth to let your flesh rub against his cheek. He grazed his teeth against your skin, leaving behind a trail of saliva as he positioned his head in your neck, seemingly as determined as you to avoid eye contact, to avoid the acknowledgement of the strange situation.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding his body against yours, and over his shoulder you saw the movements of his rear as his hips thrust into you.

Elliott let out a small moan with each sensual thrust, his breath tickling your skin, and you responded in turn with moans of your own when he sped up, his movements becoming more firm, more desperate, as you both felt your pleasure climbing.

You were too lost in the pleasure, the intimacy, the desperation of the moment to worry about anything else. For a short while, there was nothing else in the world, just you, he and the pleasure that was coiling ever tighter inside you, and when your orgasm overcame you and your whole body shook, Elliott kept thrusting into you, stopping only when his own orgasm hit and you felt his warm seed filling you up and he moaned sinfully against your neck.

After a few moments, Elliott rolled off you and onto his back, but this time, you made no quick exit. Instead, you let him hold you lazily, both of you sated, both basking in the comfort which existed between you so easily, although you couldn’t explain why.

You still didn’t say a word until breakfast.

You fell into a strange routine. You spent your days as you would - you working on your tailoring, he on the administration of your husband’s estate - and at night you’d slip into bed with him, each time telling yourself it was only because the other room was so cold. In the morning, you’d not say a word to one another as you fucked, usually starting slow and sleepy, and ending with a desperate passion.

On the third morning, you woke to his tongue between your legs.

On the fourth, you were about to lean over to take him in your mouth when he grabbed your hips and positioned you to sit on his face, and you might have worried about suffocating him with your cunt if you weren’t occupied with taking his length into your mouth.

The fifth morning was a Sunday, and you wondered if anything might happen - your pious husband had never fucked you on a Sunday, after all - but your question was answered before you even awoke, as when your eyes opened and your mind returned to the waking world, you felt Elliott was already inside you, though he didn’t begin to thrust until he knew you were awake.

The sixth morning saw you taking him in your mouth before he woke, and words passed between you for the first time when a “fucking hell” escaped Elliott’s lips as his fingers slid into your hair.

On the seventh day, Elliott woke to find the bed empty, and he found you instead in your tailoring room, sitting at your desk and still wearing your nightgown.

“Up early or still up?” he asked as he approached you from behind and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Up early,” you replied. “I had an idea in my sleep… I had to get it down before I forgot.”

“You gonna come back to bed after?”

“It’s alright, I’m done now.”

You stood up, but before you could turn around, Elliott caught you in his arms, and that morning he took you from behind over your desk - and for the first time, you moaned his name when you came.

You knew one of you would break soon and mention your morning activities during the day, but you were determined to put it off. Talking about it would mean thinking about it, and you didn’t want to confront your feelings any time soon, so you continued your strange routine for another week until one day when a letter arrived at your house addressed to Elliott.

“Oh, it’s from my uncle,” Elliott said in answer to your curious look as he read the letter at the dinner table. “On my mother’s side, no relation to William. I wrote to him when I arrived to tell him I was in England. He’s invited us to visit him in Sussex.”

“Us?”

“Well, he says ‘you,’ but I choose to take that in the plural. Would you like to come? He’s got quite the estate as I recall.”

“Sussex? Isn’t that very far?”

“Not really. About half a day by carriage.”

“That sounds very far to me…”

Elliott smiled at you. “Yes, I suppose it would. Compared to my lands in Australia, it’s no distance at all. Have you ever been to the country?”

“No, I… I’ve never left London,” you admitted. “Though I would love to visit the country, I hear it’s a lot greener than London.”

“Oh, much greener. To be frank with you, London is horrid. All the smoke in the air, beggars on the street, buildings clumped together and the earth hidden beneath cobblestones… I’ve only been here two weeks and I’m craving the fresh air. In fact, if you’ve never left London, then I insist you come with me. It’ll do you good to breathe the open air. Who knows - maybe we’ll even see some sheep.”

Your eyes lit up then, and Elliott smiled to see his words had had the desired effect on you. He’d told you all about his lands in Australia and the different animals he kept, and in turn you had told him how you wished to see sheep, which you always thought seemed so cute from your books.

So that night you packed a bag, Elliott went out to find a horse and carriage to rent for the next morning, and come bedtime you were so excited at the prospect of going to the country that you didn’t even think twice about going straight to the master bedroom with him. Usually you at least fooled yourself into thinking you were going to sleep in the second bedroom, but before you even realised what you were doing, you were both in the master bedroom, getting dressed for bed.

Elliott said nothing about it; he acted as if it were normal, and after he blew out the candle beside the bed, he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you as comfortably as if you’d always slept like this.

“Goodnight, [Y/n],” he mumbled against the back of your neck.

You smiled and linked your fingers in with his.

“Goodnight, Elliott.”

---

The next morning, you had to be up early as you’d be travelling for most of the day, so you were rudely awakened by a knocker-upper in the middle of a lovely dream about winning a cheese-eating contest.

“C’mon, [Y/n], time to get up,” you heard Elliott say a few minutes later, but you just groaned into your pillow.

“Too early,” you complained.

“You can go back to sleep in the carriage, but we gotta get going.”

“I’m trying,” you insisted. “Body won’t move.”

Elliott chuckled, then you squealed when you were suddenly lifted into the air and thrown over Elliott’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“You want to see the sheep, don’t you?”

“I wanna see the sleep.”

Elliott put you down, though he kept his hands on your shoulders to make sure you didn’t fall asleep standing up. You looked up at him blearily and smiled.

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled.

“Now I know you’re talking nonsense. Come on, let’s get you dressed. You need a hand?”

You shook your head, yawned, then reluctantly set about getting dressed. By the time you’d laced up your bodice, Elliott had already loaded the carriage waiting outside with your luggage, and was waiting for you on the front doorstep with a cigarette when you finally emerged from the house.

“Still awake?”

“Just about,” you mumbled. “If I sleep in the carriage, will you wake me up when we get out of London? I don’t wanna miss seeing anything.”

Elliott offered his arm to you and led you to the carriage.

“Of course. It’s not very exciting, though. Once you’ve seen one field you’ve seen them all.”

“But I wanna see them all!”

Elliott laughed, then helped you up into the carriage. You shuffled along the seat to let him climb in after you, then once the door was closed, you immediately curled up against the side of the carriage and nodded off.

When you woke up, the first thing you realised was that you were lying down, though you’d gone to sleep upright. The next thing you noticed was that your pillow was strange, slightly rough and harder than usual. Then you realised there was a weight on your head, and when you felt fingers casually caressing your hair, you realised the weight was a hand.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw the back of the carriage driver’s seat, but sideways.

You were lying across the seat in the carriage, head in Elliott’s lap. He’d wrapped up his coat and placed it between your head and his thigh for a pillow, and he was gently stroking your hair as you slept.

You closed your eyes again, savouring the moment. Elliott’s coat smelled like him, and his hand on your head made you feel safe and secure. Even though you were lying in an awkward position, legs bent slightly to fit on the seat, you felt a great sense of comfort.

“I know you’re awake,” Elliott said softly.

“No, I’m not,” you replied, your eyes still closed.

“I can see you smiling.”

“Shh… sleeping.”

Elliott chuckled, and he continued his gentle stroking of your hair, both of you choosing to enjoy the moment rather than address it.

“We’re out of London, by the way. Have been for a while.”

Now you did open your eyes, rubbing them as you sat up and looked around.

“You said you’d wake me when we left!”

“I’ve learnt today that waking you up before you want to is impossible.”

“Have I missed anything?”

“Only dozens of identical fields. Take a look.”

He pulled back the curtain that covered the carriage window, and you leaned over him to look outside eagerly.

“Wow,” you gasped. “There’s so much space!”

The fields stretched as far as you could see, intersected only by trees and hedges. There wasn’t a building in sight. You’d seen drawings of the countryside, but it was an even more magical sight to behold in reality.

“You should see my land in Australia,” Elliott said proudly. “Hundreds of miles, it stretches for. I own even more land in Australia than there is in London.”

“You jest!” you exclaimed, leaning back to look at him. “I believe that as much as I believe that there are such things as kangaroos.”

“It’s true, and so are the kangaroos. The world’s much bigger than you know, [Y/n].”

“Yes, I’m coming to realise that.” You sat back down in the seat, though you made no effort to distance yourself from Elliott. He had an arm thrown across the back of the seat, and when you leant back, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Is it much farther to your uncle’s house?”

“Another six hours or so. We’re only halfway there.”

“Six hours?! Goodness. What do you to pass the time on long journeys such as this?”

“Talk. Smoke. Relax.”

Elliott’s hand was wandering across your skin, fingers dancing as he traced meaningless shapes across your shoulder, and you smiled when he threaded his fingers through your hair and scratched your scalp.

“You like that?” he murmured softly.

You blushed and nodded. He threaded his fingers deeper into your hair, gently scratching at different spots on your scalp until he found a spot you seemed to particularly like, because you shuddered when he touched it, dipping your head slightly to give him better access.

Elliott withdrew his fingers, gathered your hair in his hands, and moved it aside to hang in front of your shoulder, giving himself access to pepper soft kisses across the back of your neck. You giggled slightly when his moustache tickled against your skin.

“What about that? Do you like that?”

You nodded, hardly daring to speak. Elliott’s trail of kisses moved up the side of your neck, and you let out an involuntary whine when his lips connected with the skin behind your ear.

“Elliott…”

He hummed acknowledgment against your skin, but whatever you were about to say was cut short when he placed his hand on your thigh and your breath caught in your throat.

His kisses were on your cheek now, and you could hear his breathing, feel his hot breath on your cheek. He cupped your face with his palm, encouraging you to turn to him, but despite everything you’d done with him already, somehow a kiss felt just too intimate.

So, when he turned your head, instead of kissing him you continued the momentum of your movement and pushed him back into the seat. You kissed his neck, then his collar, and as you kissed down his clothed torso, you were tempted to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt to give you access to his skin, but there was something arousingly scandalous about doing what you were doing with both your clothes still on.

When you reached his belt, Elliott helped you unbuckle it and grunted with relief when he released his hardened cock from the confines of his trousers. You licked your lips, then took his tip in your mouth, easing his girth into you. Elliott let out a low moan as you skilfully took him deeper and deeper until he was buried in your throat, your nose buried in his hair.

He placed one hand on your back and the other cupped your cheek, gently encouraging you to move. You slid your tongue along his shaft as you lifted your head, and though you intended to retract all the way to his tip, Elliott wrapped your hair around his fingers to hold you still and thrusted up into you. You choked slightly with surprise, but you simply widened your throat as your late husband had taught you to, giving Elliott the room he needed to bury himself inside you again - and again - and again.

At some point, although you couldn’t say exactly when, Elliott released his grip on your hair and let you take over. You wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft so you could pleasure him without choking yourself, and which also allowed you to bob your head faster.

“Ah, fucking hell… [Y/n]…”

Even though you’d been sharing intimate moments for two weeks now, you still hardly spoke during and certainly never mentioned it after, and you’d have expected that hearing Elliott moan your name now would frighten you, making the moment too personal, but there was something about it that shot straight to your core, almost as if you wanted that level of intimacy with Elliott.

You pushed that thought to the back of your mind. That was something to deal with later; for now, you were just enjoying pleasuring him, listening to his beautiful moans as he responded to your ministrations.

What you didn’t know was that while you were trying to ignore the feelings that were growing inside you - which you didn’t want to admit had been growing since the day Elliott showed up at your door - he was revelling in his, savouring every moment of intimacy between you as if he were a parched man and your affection was his hydration. He tried to hold back his orgasm when he felt it climbing, because he didn’t want this to end, to finish your unspoken intimacy and go back to pretending that anything was happening between you.

He tried to hold it back - but you had a way of telling when he was close, and you weren’t one for edging, because it only spurred you on, sucking him off faster until he could resist no more. Elliott grabbed your head and pushed you down his shaft, burying himself in your throat as he shot his load inside you, and though you choked and spluttered, you relished in the feeling of his warm cum bypassing your mouth and filling you up straight down your throat.

You had nothing with you to clean him up, so you used your tongue and licked him clean. Elliott sighed with relief and leant his head back against the seat.

“Jesus, [Y/n]… You are something else, you know that?”

You averted your eyes and blushed, as if you weren’t the one who’d initiated it. Elliott saw your bashfulness and smiled.

“Hey, c’mere.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you in for an embrace. You cozied up to him and rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he gently rubbed your back. Elliott’s gentle touch, combined with the rhythm of his heartbeat and the movement of the carriage, soon sent you back to sleep. Eventually, Elliott found himself dozing off too, both of you comfortable in one another’s arms as the countryside rolled by.

---

You woke up a few hours later when the carriage came to a halt. You sat up, blushing when you realised you’d once again been sleeping with your head in Elliott’s lap. He, meanwhile, was still asleep; you giggled and pushed his mouth closed for him when you saw he was drooling.

Curious as to why you’d stopped, you pulled the curtain back from the window and saw that you were on a long road, flagged either side by lines of trees. The carriage driver hopped down from his seat, and you opened the door to poke your head out.

“Is everything alright?” you asked.

“Go back inside, m’lady, nothing to worry about. There’s a man injured on the road.”

“Oh, dear! That’s not nothing at all. Here, let me help.”

Ignoring the driver’s protestations, you hopped out of the carriage, lifted your skirt to avoid muddying it, and followed behind him to attend to the injured man. Before the driver could examine the man, however, another man came suddenly from between the trees, punched the driver hard enough to render him unconscious, and the supposedly injured man jumped up to begin rifling through the driver’s pockets.

You, naturally, had exclaimed in surprise when the second man appeared, and as soon as his punch landed, he turned his attention to you.

“Hey, we got a twofer!” the man exclaimed, grinning hungrily. He grabbed you before you could dodge him, and you screamed.

“Unhand me, you scoundrel!” you shouted, fruitlessly pulling against the grip the man now had on both your wrists. He simply laughed and threw you to the ground.

“I been hoping for a girl to rape all day,” he said with a nasty grin as he unbuckled his belt. “Today’s my lucky day!”

 BANG!

You cried out in surprise again when a gunshot rang out, and the man’s luck ran out as blood began to pour from his forehead, and if his stunned expression were anything to go by, he was dead before he hit the ground.

His companion, who had up until now been searching the driver’s pockets, went to grab his own gun, but his hand had hardly moved towards his belt when another BANG resulted in blood pouring from his chest, and after a few attempts at breathing through the blood filling his lungs, he too collapsed dead to the ground.

You tried to clambour to your feet, but the ground was slick with mud, and you embarrassingly fell back onto your bum. You jumped when a hand gripped your upper arm and pulled you to your feet, but you felt a wave of relief wash over you when you turned and saw that it was Elliott.

“Are you alright?” he asked urgently.

You nodded, though you were still frightened, but you were otherwise unharmed. Acting on instinct more than anything, you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head against his chest.

“Oh, Elliott, thank goodness,” you sighed. “He was - he was going to —”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Elliott said soothingly. His gun was still in his right hand, but with his left he embraced you and gently stroked your hair, seemingly undeterred by the mud that was no doubt all over you. “Nothing’s gonna harm you, not while I’m around.”

You sniffled, and Elliott holstered his gun to allow himself to hold you properly, rocking you and murmuring words of comfort until your breathing had steadied.

“The - the driver…” you muttered, looking over your shoulder.

“Alive, but unconscious - I can see him breathing,” Elliott determined. “We’ll have to wait for him to wake up before we go on. Come on - let’s sit you down.”

Elliott kept an arm firmly around your shoulders as he guided you to the carriage and sat you down on the step to examine you.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked as he gently took your chin between his fingers and turned your head to check for injuries.

“Only my bum from falling back down,” you admitted. “Erm - and my elbows too. I think they took most of the fall.”

“Let me see them. Can you roll your sleeves up?”

“Not in this dress.”

“You’ll need to take it off, then,” Elliott said matter-of-factly, and his hands were on your bodice, pulling apart the lace across your chest, before you could react.

“Is this a ruse to get my clothes off?”

Elliott smirked and his eyes flashed dangerously. “I don’t need a ruse for that, sweetheart. We both know you’d be out of that dress in an instant if I asked.”

You had no reply to that. You blushed hard to hear him flirting with you so brazenly when you’d spent so long not speaking of the spark between you, but truthfully he was right. Even though you were out in the open, two dead men lying in the mud nearby and your carriage driver unconscious next to them, you felt a shiver of desire run through your body as Elliott ran his hands over your chest to unlace your dress.

You glanced down at his waist, where his gun was back in its holster, glistening slightly in the afternoon sun. It had happened so fast, you had hardly had a chance to fully appreciate what had just happened - Elliott had killed two men with hardly a flinch, all to protect you.

Almost instinctively, you spread your legs slightly, and Elliott must have been acting on instinct too when he moved closer to you. Although his hands were firm and calloused, still his touch was gentle as he pushed the shoulders of your dress down, peeling the fabric from your skin until you were able to pull your arms from the sleeves - and, as it just so happened, your breasts were revealed too.

Ignoring his desire to ravish attention on your breasts, Elliott instead focused on examining your elbows, both of which were grazed slightly but otherwise unharmed.

“Anywhere else that hurts?”

“My thighs,” you lied. “Maybe you should check underneath my skirt too.”

Elliott raised an eyebrow at you. “Your thighs? Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

You opened your legs a little wider, causing your skirt to ride up your legs, your calves poking out from below the hemline. Elliott put a hand on either ankle and made a show of slowly checking every inch of you for injuries, before sliding his hands over your knees and up to your waistband to pull your bloomers down, giving himself access to your bare skin to ‘check for injuries.’

“Where does it hurt? Here?” Elliott asked, his hands resting on your lower thighs.

“Mmm… higher.”

“…Here?”

His hand moved up to your upper thigh, and he could feel the warm of your core tickling his fingers.

“A bit higher…”

Elliott smirked at you hungrily, his eyes alight with desire.

“How about… here?”

He cupped your heat with his hand, and you stifled a moan.

“It hurts here, does it?”

You nodded. “Hurts ‘cus it’s empty,” you whined.

Elliott closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled.

“[Y/n], you are… fuck, I don’t know what. I’m no good with words. But actions - actions I can do.”

He withdrew his hand slightly to bring his thumb up to your sweet spot, and you gasped his name when he began caressing it while his other hand busied itself with unbuckling his belt.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart? Here and now?”

You nodded desperately. “Please, Elliott. I… I need you.”

Elliott had been aching to hear you express your desires for two weeks now, and though he’d not imagined you’d first speak them aloud in a carriage doorway on the side of the road with two dead bodies nearby, hearing you express not just a want but a need for him… it would have been enough to make him fall in love with you.

It would have, had he not already fallen deeper than he ever thought possible.

He entered you with a groan of relief. Your mouth was exceptionally talented, and he’d treasure the memory of that morning’s blowjob always, but there was nothing quite like the feeling of your walls around his length. He felt as if he belonged there, belonged in your cunt, belonged with you .

As much as he’d wanted to, Elliott had never fucked outside before. In a place such as Australia, it was hard to find somewhere that wasn’t outside, but his first wife had never been one for show, and even after her death, he felt that taking a whore was something to be done privately.

But there was something inherently natural and right about fucking outside. God made the Heavens and the Earth, and he made man, but he never made anything like a building or a vehicle. Those were inventions of man. Humans were meant to fuck, and they were meant to do it outside.

Now that you’d broken the seal that had held both of you back from speaking during your morning trysts, Elliott took the liberty of being as vocal as he liked, muttering your name over and over again, as if making up for all the times he’d fucked you in silence.

“Ohh, [Y/n]… fuck, you feel so good… so good for me, [Y/n]… Lord, if only I could live inside this sweet cunt of yours.”

Elliott’s words danced around your mind like a flame, setting your desire alight, every sense overwhelmed by him. The feel of his cock thrusting inside you, the sound of his muttered praise intersected with grunts of pleasure, the sight of his handsome face overwhelmed with pleasure. Even his smell, his musky smell that lingered on all his clothes, the unmistakable smell of sex that filled the carriage. The only thing missing was taste, but then again, you’d tasted him well enough earlier.

Lord, he was beautiful in the throes of ecstasy. And as your pleasure overwhelmed you, causing you to cry out and fill the carriage with the sounds of your moans as your orgasm washed over you, Elliott thought you were not just beautiful, but something otherworldly altogether. He fucked you through your orgasm, and when he filled you up with his seed moments later, Elliott knew in that moment that whatever you were, you wouldn’t travel north up this road back to London as anything other than his wife.

---

By the time you arrived at Ivy Manor in Sussex, you were feeling a desperate need for a bath. You had cum on your legs, mud on your dress and in your hair, and you were sweating from the summer heat.

All your discomfort fell away, however, when Elliott helped you out of the carriage and you saw the manor house in all its splendour. It was bigger even than Westminster Abbey! And the land surrounding it sprawled for miles; you had certainly ridden at least a mile further past the manor gates before approaching the building itself.

You looked around, eyes wide as saucers, amazed that a building this large could even exist. And this was only one family’s home!

“Ah, there’s my nephew!”

An older man, perhaps a little older than your late husband, came to greet you, wearing a black wool suit with a garish checkered vest, and you wondered if country lords were immune to summer heat, because you imagined Elliott’s uncle should be boiling inside that suit.

The uncle greeted Elliott with a warm smile and a friendly handshake, then turned to you and bowed his head.

“And this must be the cousin’s wife. A pleasure to meet you. Duke Rupert Beaumont, at your service. Forgive me, miss, but Elliott neglected to give me your full name in his letter.”

“[Y/n] Turpin, sir,” you said with a curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having us in your home.”

“Lady [Y/n] Turpin,” Elliott corrected you.

You smiled coyly. “Yes, well, I don’t see a need for formalities amongst family.”

”Turpin, you say?!” Duke Beaumont said in surprise. “As in Lord William Turpin?”

“Yes, sir, he’s my late husband.”

“Why, I had no idea! Elliott mentioned his cousin was a judge, of course, but not that it was Lord Turpin! And you’re his lady wife, you say?”

“Yes, sir. Did you know my husband, then?”

“Know him? My dear - apologies, my Lady - I studied alongside him at Oxford! A very long time ago this was, mind you, but we’ve written to one another on occasion. I had no idea my brother-in-law was his uncle. I hadn’t known of his passing, though. I’m very sorry for your loss, my Lady, he was an excellent lawyer and a noble man in every sense. Might I ask how he passed?”

“Oh, erm —”

“It was foul play,” Elliott said, quickly sensing your discomfort and placing a comforting hand on the small of your back. “A former convict with a vendetta. A tragedy, of course, but let’s just be grateful [Y/n] wasn’t harmed. In an unfortunately similar turn of events, we were stopped on our way here by highwaymen, and [Y/n] suffered an unfortunate fall. Could we trouble you for the use of a bath, and perhaps a servant to wash her dress?”

“Yes, yes, of course! Highwaymen, you say? Should I send out for the police?”

“No matter, I dealt with them,” Elliott said smugly, pushing his jacket back slightly to reveal the gun on his hip. “Unless you want to clear the road of their bodies.”

“Hmm… yes, I suppose we should clear the road. I’ll send someone out. Well, come along, old chap, let’s get your luggage taken in and we’ll draw a bath for the lady.”

A few hours later, you were feeling much cleaner after a bath, and the room you’d been told you were to stay in was already made up for you and your clothes laid out. You were surprised to find a servant girl expecting you to need her help getting dressed, but not wanting to embarrass Elliott with any faux pas, you allowed the girl to dress you for dinner.

You left your room just in time to see Elliott leave his, which was directly across from yours.

“Well, fancy seeing you here, m’lady,” he said with a smirk. “Are you my dinner date for tonight?”

“I think I must be. Although you’ll have to keep your eye on me to make sure I don’t do anything embarrassing, I know the basics of etiquette but I’ve never done much more than dine with William and Johanna.”

Elliott scoffed. “And you think I have? This is just as foreign to me as it is to you.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief to know you weren’t alone in feeling like a fish out of water in such a grand place. You took Elliott’s arm and he escorted you down the corridor, both of you secretly hoping you remembered the way back to the dining room Duke Beaumont had pointed out to you earlier.

“So, Elliott… your cousin a Lord, your uncle a Duke. Why don’t you have any titles?”

“Oh, we don’t bother with peerages and titles in Australia. A man’s worth is judged on his character and achievements, not his name. Though if we did, then with the amount of land I own, I’m sure I’d be a Lord.”

“Lord Elliott Marston of Australia,” you said in a faux-pompous voice, and Elliott laughed. “No, you’re right, it’s not very you, is it?”

“Definitely not. Mr Marston is fine with me. But Lady suits you very well.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” you said with a blush. “I come from nothing. I’m a Lady only because of William. It feels strange to call myself a Lady when I don’t have a Lord, that’s why I never introduce myself as Lady Turpin. If I remarry a man of no rank and become a Mrs, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you… intend to remarry?”

You turned a corner and succeeded in finding the staircase back down to the entrance hall.

“Well, I must, mustn’t I?”

“Must you?”

“Yes, I mean, if you truly intend to transfer my husband’s estate to me, I can’t very well go on without children, can I? I’ll need an heir to inherit William’s estate.”

“And do you… have any suitors in mind?”

The stairs were steep, so your focus was on not tripping over the hem of your dress, and you had an excuse to hide your blushing face - and avoid seeing the cautious hope in Elliott’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” you said noncommittally.

“Perhaps?”

“Well… there is one man I’d consider accepting a proposal from, but…”

“…But?”

“I’m not sure he’d want me,” you admitted.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and Elliott paused.

“Whyever wouldn’t he want you?”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting.

“Well… he has no need to marry me for the estate,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “So the only reason he’d marry me is for me. And, well… I’m not much on my own, am I?”

Elliott frowned. He took your chin between his fingers, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“[Y/n]… you’re wonderful. Don’t ever think you’re anything less. Any man would be lucky to have you as his wife, estate or no. William married you knowing full well you came from nothing, didn’t he? No dowry, no estate. Just your kind heart and your gentle soul. He knew that you were worth far more than any lord’s daughter - and he was right.”

“Do you - do you really think so?” you asked quietly, your voice almost breathless as your insides twisted into knots.

“Have I ever struck you as a dishonest man?”

“No, I —”

You were interrupted by the ringing of a bell to call you for dinner, and you glanced away from Elliott’s striking gaze, your face no doubt bright red.

“Perhaps together we can fumble our way through dinner with a duke,” you said, glad for the distraction. You readjusted your hand on Elliott’s arm and let him escort you into the dining room, not realising that his eyes were firmly on you the entire time.

---

Dinner went on much longer than you were used to. There were seven courses, each with a break in between, and after dessert  Duke Beaumont’s granddaughter Leanne who had a musical talent played a few songs on the piano. She reminded you a little of Johanna, who sometimes would play the piano in the parlour room, and you wondered where she was and if she was enjoying her new life with Anthony, wherever they were.

It felt strangely reserved, the way everybody sat and listened as Leanne played. Music was best enjoyed with dance, you had always found, and to sit simply listening made you feel as if something were missing.

But you didn’t want to embarrass Elliott, so you sat politely, and with everyone’s attention on Leanne, Elliott took the opportunity to place his hand on your thigh under the table.

You blushed hard, and from the corner of your eye, you could see him smirking.

Lord, how could a simple touch from him make you feel all aflutter?

“Play something we can dance to, Annie!” said an older woman - possibly Leanne’s mother, though you found it so hard to keep track - and so Leanne switched to a faster song, and people began to stand and pair up to dance, mainly in couples, although adorably Duke Beaumont asked his five-year-old granddaughter to dance with him.

“Do you dance, [Y/n]?” Elliott asked.

“Not since my wedding day. We never - we never had a chance to host any social events.”

Elliott stood and held his hand out to you, the same one that until moments ago had been on your thigh.

“Come on, then. I’ll die a happy man so long as I’ve had one dance with the most beautiful woman in England.”

Was his intention to experiment with how much he could make you blush?

You took his proffered hand, stepped away from the dining table, and Elliott gave you a small, formal bow before placing his hand on your waist. You were both a little out of practice, but you fumbled your way into a rhythm together.

“You’re very cute when you blush, you know,” Elliott commented as you danced, “but you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I told you, I’m an honest man, [Y/n]. I only speak the truth.”

“You’re very kind,” you said with a small smile, looking up at him. “I suppose I’m a shy person, that’s all, and I’m not used to such kind words.”

Elliott chuckled and shook his head. “I’m a lot of things, [Y/n]. Kind is not a word many would use.”

“Then let me be the one to use it.”

 “Alright. You can call me kind. So long as I can call you beautiful.”

You blushed and ducked your head with a smile. You knew Elliott had just told you not to be embarrassed, but how could you not be?

The song ended and you broke apart from Elliott to join the others in polite applause for Leanne’s playing. Duke Beaumont announced it was time for the men to have a smoke and a drink, so you decided it was time to go to bed. Elliott kissed the back of your hand as he wished you goodnight, and though you felt yourself blushing, you managed to stop yourself from glancing away this time.

A few hours later, you were still awake, as you were struggling to fall asleep in the unknown bed. You heard the bedroom door open and close; thinking it was a servant, you sat up groggily to tell them to come back in the morning, only to realise by the moonlight slipping through a crack in the curtains that it was Elliott.

He was already in his nightshirt. He slipped under the covers of the bed, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you back down to lie under the covers with him.

“Is your room cold?” you asked.

“No,” Elliott replied, his eyes already closed as he held you, and you turned towards him almost instinctively to wrap an arm around him. “It was lonely.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah… mine too.”

“Doesn’t feel so lonely to me.”

“Not anymore.”

Elliott smiled.

“Goodnight, [Y/n].”

“Goodnight, Elliott.”

The next morning, it didn’t even hit you that it was the first morning you’d woken up in bed with Elliott and not had sex. You felt so comfortable waking up next to him, as if the simple intimacy of being in his arms and inhaling his scent was enough for you. You kept expecting him to initiate something, but instead he just held you, his fingers drawing meaningless shapes across your skin.

When eventually you got out of bed, Elliott went across the hall to his own room to get dressed for breakfast. You greeted him in the dining room as if you didn’t know how he’d slept, and as you ate he asked if you’d like to accompany him for a walk around the grounds.

“This place was a lot bigger in my memory,” Elliott mused as you set out side-by-side down a footpath around the manor. “Then again, I was very small last time I was here.”

“I think it’s enormous,” you replied, looking around at the gardens you were meandering through.

“I suppose it would be to you. My land in Australia’s much bigger, though.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.”

“On the topic of Australia… have you given any more thought to my proposition on the day I arrived?”

“Forgive me - what proposition was that?”

“Coming back with me.”

“Oh - well, yes, that’d be lovely I’m sure. But if you’re to transfer me the estate, there’s no point in leaving it to gather dust, is there?”

“Well… you wouldn’t have to, necessarily. Here, let’s turn left - as I recall there’s a lovely pond down this path.”

You followed Elliott down the left-hand turn, then he said, “I must admit, [Y/n], I had a slightly ulterior motive in coming here. I wanted to speak to my uncle about his purchasing the estate from me, though of course all the proceeds would go to you. He seems amenable to it - he’d like to purchase it as a wedding gift for Leanne. But I know how important William’s legacy is to you, so I wanted you to come here with me, to meet him and Leanne. I’ll only sell it to him if you permit it, and only if you don’t intend to keep it for yourself. If you want to stay there, or if you don’t trust him to look after it properly, I’ll not sell it to him. It’s your home, after all, and you know I’ll not evict you from it nor leave it with someone untrustworthy.”

You reached the pond and there was a long silence as you considered everything Elliott had said. Although the idea of someone else living in what was supposed to be your family home with William filled you with dread, you didn’t much fancy the other options.

You had known for a while what you wanted.

A part of you felt it was a betrayal of William’s memory. You owed him so much, after all. But he had left you without an heir, and if you didn’t move on, then on your own death the estate would flounder.

“I have to think about it,” you decided. “There’s so much at stake here - for you, for me, for William’s legacy. I must consider what he would want me to do.”

You glanced down at the clear water of the pond, and your eyes widened when you saw the large body of a fish swim by.

“Look, you can see the fish!”

Elliott laughed. You looked at him, frowning.

“And just what is so funny?”

“Nothing, darling. I’m laughing because your childlike wonder never ceases to be adorable. Don’t you live by the riverside?”

“You can’t see fish in the Thames, it’s too dirty,” you said defensively, turning away from him to peer into the water again. “Besides, the water’s too toxic to consume, so I hardly expect any fish can survive in there. Can you see the fish in Australia?”

“Of course you can. But then again, Australia is an untempered land, still in her infancy. There’s nothing to pollute the waters with.”

“Oh, Australia’s a she?”

“Most definitely,” Elliott said. You felt his hands on your waist as he stood behind you, his body definitely too close to yours for propriety.

“That makes perfect sense, actually,” you teased. “The way you talk about it, someone might think you’re in love with it. Why don’t you marry Australia?”

“Hmm, I’d much rather marry you.”

You froze. Time stood still. Your heart missed several beats. When you turned around to look at Elliott, your mouth agape as if you were one of the fish in the pond, suddenly nothing in the world existed but for him and you.

“Do you - do you mean that?”

Elliott blinked in surprise, then laughed and shook his head.

“Perhaps I should have been clearer. What I’m saying, [Y/n], is that I’d like you to come back to Australia with me - as my wife.”

---

You were a little embarrassed at the way you’d excused yourself and almost ran off from Elliott, citing some mumbled excuse about having to think about his proposal.

A proposal! Elliott had proposed to you. You, with nothing to your name that he didn’t have, nothing more than the collateral damage from some ex-convict’s murderous rampage. You, a glorified street urchin, who had only risen to the status of a Lady because Judge Turpin had fallen for you as more than a whore who kept his bed warm.

What could he possibly expect to gain from a marriage to you? William had married you for love only because he knew he had little time left, because if your time hadn’t been cut short you were willing and able to serve him loyally and give him the heir he needed.

Perhaps that was it. Elliott had no heirs either, his wife having died some years earlier from sickness. He needed a wife, and he knew already how well you took his seed. You’d unintentionally spent the last few weeks essentially auditioning your body to him as marriage material.

You were in the empty parlour room, pacing back and forth as thoughts swirled around in your mind, until your reverie was broken by Duke Beaumont entering the room.

“Duke Beaumont, sir,” you said by way of greeting, accompanied by a curtsey. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m in here. I needed a little time alone with my thoughts.”

The Duke smiled knowingly. “Elliott proposed to you, then, did he?”

He knew? Of course he knew - Elliott must have told him that the sale was contingent on your accepting the proposal.

“Well… yes, he did,” you admitted. “I’m considering the options he’s laid before me, sir.”

“Well, let me give you a bit of help with that.”

The Duke reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter with its wax seal broken.

“Allow me to give you this - evidence of my nephew’s intentions, I suppose one would call it.”

“Sir?”

You took the letter cautiously, and Duke Beaumont smiled through his beard with a knowing glint in your eye.

“Curious, isn’t it, what a person says about another when they’re not around to hear it?”

With that bit of vague wisdom, the Duke left you alone with your thoughts and the mysterious letter.

You unfolded the letter and read:

Dear Uncle Rupert,

You may be surprised to be reading a letter from me addressed from London; I am just as surprised to be writing it.

A cousin on my father’s side residing in London passed late last year, and as his only surviving relative I’ve travelled to London to administer his estate.

He leaves behind a stately townhouse, containing many extravagant furnishings, books, art and the like. He also leaves behind a widow, a wife he married not long before his untimely death, and therefore he had not updated his will and she had not yet borne children.

My first instinct on hearing of my inheritance was to write back asking the solicitor to simply sell the estate on, but when I heard of my cousin’s lone wife, I felt it my duty to attend London myself to ensure she wouldn’t be left homeless.

On meeting her yesterday, however, my intentions have changed.

I’m not ashamed to say she has bewitched me. She’s certainly beautiful, but that’s only the start of her qualities, Uncle. She has an interest in the world most women don’t possess, and she’s clearly resourceful - having been barred from her husband’s money since his death, she instead has been making money for herself designing and making clothes.

I worry, though, that my cousin was less than kind to her. She seems afraid of men, and it took some time of conversation with her to convince her I wasn’t a danger. I fear, if left alone, she may be susceptible to marry a man who mistreats her, particularly if I grant her ownership of her husband’s sizeable estate.

While in London, as well as administering the estate, I intend to take the time to get to know her, and more importantly, to give her the chance to get to know me and understand that I pose no threat to her.

Then, if she’ll have me, I’ll ask her for her hand and bring her back to Australia with me.

Which brings me to the reason for my letter, other than a friendly greeting. [Y/n] is clearly still very attached to the house and its contents - understandably so, since she still carries my cousin in her heart. I don’t believe she’d wish to depart without certainty her husband’s legacy was being cared for by a trusted person.

I wonder, therefore, whether you, or perhaps someone you know, have any interest in purchasing the estate? The house is located centrally in London (for my cousin was a judge of the High Court) and its contents, if you wish to sell them on, would fetch a pretty penny at auction. I propose to sell it to you at a fraction of its value for the sake of a quick sale to a trusted person.

Please write back to the above mentioned address with your answer. I should also, if you are agreeable, like to visit your home during my stay in England, as it’s been many decades since we last met, and I’d like to meet my cousins you’ve so often written about.

Yours truly,

Elliott Marston

---

While you were considering the choice you had to make, Elliott couldn’t stand to sit around waiting, so he joined his cousins in riding out to shoot some pheasants.

To his frustration, he kept missing them, because his mind was still on you. His cousins teased him, not for missing his marks, but because he was so bewitched by you.

“Well, if she says no, she has to marry someone,” said one of the younger men, Duke Beaumont’s grandson, who was about your age, as the men were tying their kills to their horses. “I’ll gladly have her. Pretty little thing like that with a free London estate and no father to pay a dowry to? Bargain.”

Elliott’s hand twitched over the barrel of his gun, and he had to remind himself that murder was a bit harder to get away with in England than it was in Australia.

“If she rejects me, I hardly expect she’ll have you, Jonathan,” Elliott snarled.

“Oh yeah? I’m not twice her age, for one thing. Better put a bun in that oven before you run out of ammo, old man.”

“I’m forty-four.”

“Yeah, and she’s what, twenty?”

Jonathan’s brother, Samuel, nudged him with a laugh. “Hey, though, grandfather said her dead husband was sixty-something. Maybe she likes them old.”

Elliott stepped towards the two boys - because that’s what they were, boys , hardly men - with a snarl on his face and his hand firmly on the barrel of his gun.

“Speak one more unkind word about [Y/n] and I’ll tell your grandfather I mistook you both for pheasants.”

“Ah, only a jest, cousin,” Jonathan said with a dismissive wave. “I’d not have her really. Don’t want used goods, you know?”

Elliott forwent his gun for possibly the first time ever as his instinct took over and he punched Jonathan squarely in the jaw.

Samuel burst out laughing.

“Ha, that’s what you get, John!”

“Bloody bastard!” Jonathan cursed. “What was that for?!”

“For besmirching [Y/n]’s honour,” Elliott hissed. “Perhaps she does prefer older men, and who could blame her when men her age are nothing but boys?”

Jonathan glanced at his brother, who was still amused at seeing his brother taken down a peg, and so he made the wise decision not to engage Elliott any further.

“Hey, isn’t that her over there?” Samuel said, peering into the distance.

Elliott looked around, and sure enough, you were approaching atop a horse, riding sidesaddle behind Duke Beaumont.

“Grandfather, what are you doing out here?” Jonathan asked. “I thought you weren’t joining the hunt today? We’re just about to leave, actually.”

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m simply the delivery man. Lady Turpin required a ride out here and I was only too obliged to provide it. Off you pop, then, m’lady, and I’ll escort these two ratbags back to the house. Come along, pip pip!”

You slid off the back of the horse, landing on your feet, and the Duke turned his horse around to escort his obedient grandsons back to the house, leaving Elliott suddenly alone with you.

“There might be some pheasants left in the north burrow,” Elliott said. “Though I suspect you didn’t come here to hunt.”

You smiled coyly.

“Not for pheasants, no. I, um… I couldn’t wait for you to get back. Literally - Duke Beaumont practically threw me on the back of his horse. He seems to be quite enthusiastic about you and I.”

“You and I?” Elliott said questioningly, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about.

You pulled the letter out of a pocket (you always sewed pockets into your dresses) and handed it to him.

“The Duke showed me this.”

Elliott took the letter curiously, and when he opened it, if you didn’t know any better you might have thought he blushed.

“And… you liked it, did you?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And, er… what was your favourite part, if I might ask?”

You laughed.

“You wanted to marry me from the day we met.”

“Of course I did, I’d be a fool not to.”

“But you… you waited. As if - as if my opinion in the matter was important.”

“Of course it is. I don’t want you to marry me out of obligation, [Y/n]. I don’t want you to come to Australia because you’ve got nowhere else to go. And I certainly don’t want your estate. I want you, and I want you to want me.”

“I want you.”

Elliott’s eyes widened hopefully.

“Then you’ll have me?”

You grinned.

“Yes.”

Elliott wrapped his arm around your waist and easily picked you up, spinning you around on the spot, and you squealed.

“Elliott!”

He just laughed. When he put you down, you were both breathless, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Just you wait, [Y/n], you’ll love it in Australia.”

“I’m sure I will. I’ll love it anywhere we go, so long as I’m with you.”

---

You were married the very next day. You didn’t bother with an event wedding - neither of you knew anyone in England who wasn’t already at Ivy Manor. Besides, you’d both been married once before, and neither of you felt the need to wait for another opulent wedding. You just wanted to be wed, and so you married in your nicest dress and he in his best suit either of you had with you, and your guests were Elliott’s family.

Duke Beaumont gave you away, his daughter acted as maid of honour, and your groom was the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on.

You weren’t ashamed of the tears that ran down your cheeks as you exchanged vows. Why should you be? They were tears of joy, joy you’d never known you were capable or deserving of feeling.

You made love that night free of the unspoken tension that had pierced your sinful but oh so right premarital trysts. You were his wife, he your husband, and you were free to make love as often as you’d like.

Some confidence came over you and you impaled yourself on your husband’s cock, riding him with a ferocity and passion you never knew you were capable of.

Marriage must have given him a new virility, because Elliott came in and on you five times that night, but not without ensuring you came just as many. He worked wonders with his tongue, his fingers, his cock, and by the time you collapsed, exhausted, into each other’s arms, you were sweaty and sticky and full of his seed in just about every place imaginable.

“If I’d known when we met that this was what you were like in bed as a husband, I’d have married you on the spot,” you giggled. Elliott, although sated for now, was laying gentle kisses on the top of your head as he held you against his chest, as if your scent was a drug he was desperately addicted to.

“I can’t get enough of you, [Y/n],” Elliott mumbled against your hair. “I meant what I said in the letter — that you bewitched me from the moment we met.”

You looked up at him. He was exhausted, sweaty, and just about the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, because his amber eyes were almost glowing with love as he looked at you.

“I think I knew you in another life,” you said quietly, almost in a daze, as if you were overcome by some kind of hypnotic trance just by looking into his eyes.

Elliott smiled.

“I’m glad I found you in this one.”

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Omg I NEED to learn more about your Demon!Charles WIP (if you don’t mind!)

Of course! Here's another little snippet:

When Charles was little, his father liked to scare him with stories of Hell. It was one of the demon who called himself Ralph Rowland’s favorite threats: if Charles made too much noise or talked back or breathed wrong, his father would take him to Hell and leave him there. Charles used to lie awake at night, terrorized by visions of being hunted by demons for sport, of pits of fire, of being left alone in the dark and forgotten. But his worst fear was always Limbo: being frozen in place for years, centuries, maybe even an eternity. The minds of the souls in Limbo were fully aware of what was going on, even as their bodies remained unmoving, at the mercy of the cruel whims of any passing demon. To Charles, that helplessness sounded worse than any torture. He doesn’t want to think of Edwin—with his crooked little smile and his graceful hands and his bookshelf full of vintage mystery novels—at the mercy of any of the nightmares his imaginings used to conjure up. He doesn’t want to think of the tortures that the denizens of Hell would conjure up for Edwin. “I’m not turning him over to Sa’al,” he tells Crystal, even though he knows she’s not asking him to. She wouldn’t. “I’ve got this handled.” She eyes him skeptically over the rim of her mug. “You always say that.” “And I always do, don’t I?” “This is an archduke of Hell, not a poltergeist.” In the other room, Charles hears Niko laugh and he wonders if Edwin just made a joke. “I’ve got this handled, Crystal. I promise.”

WIP Ask Game

[mothybean]

Average

Jinx x Fem!Reader

a/n: A buddy of mine recommended me to post my fics here sooo...

This is a MA story!

Explicit Sexual Themes

Minors DNI

Both characters are 18 years old.

(Y/N is depicted as 5"1 with mid length hair.)

---

Chapter 1. Ordinary

There’s nothing worse than being average. Being average never won anyone an award. It never allowed one to be picked first for sports to join their team. Most of all, being average almost always drove my thoughts to make me feel as if I wasn’t important; as if I didn't deserve to exist with the rest of the society. Not quite a nobody, but not quite somebody: a depressing limbo.

Average. 

The way the word rolled off my tongue made me want to rip it out, tainting my mouth with such a despicable word. I’ve been average pretty much all of my life. I would rather be super nerdy if that allowed attention from someone other than my small knit group of friends. I yearned to be something other than what most would consider an NPC. It was a curse. 

I huffed silently as I let the negative thoughts thunder inside my head, each pessimistic worry bouncing back and forth against my skull like a rabid squirrel trying to escape animal control. I slumped in my chair, my arms dangling off the sides with my cheek squished against my notes staring off into a bookshelf across from me. I really should be studying, but I just couldn’t bring myself to pick my head up. I was too busy drowning in my dismal self-reflection.  As I stared at a random thick leather book spine, another intrusive thought appeared. Did studying in the school’s library during my free period make me even more average? Should I study underneath a busy overpass? Or maybe in the middle of the street?

“You look lively.” I heard a familial voice say behind me. 

Still too upset to move, I lazily lifted my arm to give them a half-assed wave before letting my arm go limp again. I heard Calista snort before she stood in front of me, blocking my intense staring contest between the leather book and me. She placed her hands on her hips, giving me her infamous look of disbelief.

“Goin’ through it again, huh?” Her displeased look softened into one of empathy, taking the seat in front of her.

I nodded softly, my cheek slightly sliding the paper beneath it. “Oh, Y/n. There, there.” She sighed, giving my head a couple of pats. “Is it the usual Y/n thought special a la carte?” She chuckled, leaning on the table with their head supported by her hands.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, flashing her a pair of somber eyes. “When is it not?”

She dropped her pastel pink satchel onto the table, the thud resonating between the table and my head. Calista started to dig through her bag, various sounds emitting from it as she blindly searched for something. A few more seconds of noisy clutter clashing around echoed before she exclaimed, “Aha!” She triumphantly pulled out the item, hiding it within her closed fist and extended it out towards me.  “Give me your hand.” Calista demanded.

I pinched my brows together with curiosity as I held my palm under her fist. She opened her hand and a small blue wrapped candy fell into my palm. A Blue Raspberry Warhead. I should have known. Were they my favorite? Yes. Did she only ever give them to me when I was being “sour”? Also yes. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I unwrapped the citric acid coated shell, my mouth already salivating from thinking about it. I finally separated my cheek from the table, sitting up straight in my chair as I popped the vibrant blue candy in my mouth.

“Better?” She beamed, closing her bag before dropping it at her feet.

I rolled my eyes, trying to regulate the amount of saliva I was producing and nodded slightly. She knew me better than anyone else. I was grateful for her.

“Yeah. Thank you.” I replied, moving the candy to my opposite cheek.

She watched as I enjoyed my little sour delight, her face visibly concerned before giving a forced shutter.

“I don’t know how you can just eat those with a straight face. Any normal person would be puckering until their whole face was sucked in.” She stuck her tongue out and let out a low, guttural sound of disgust.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her comment, sticking out my blue stained tongue at her. I guess I wasn’t completely “normal” after all. Even if it was over something trivial as being sour resistant. I’ll take it.

“Our free period is almost over. Wanna walk to class with me?” She asked, glancing at her matching pink smart watch while simultaneously reaching for her bag.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, gathering my loose notes sprawled in front of me. 

As I gathered my belongings, the raucous laughter of a group of girls reverberated through the library, their footsteps echoing loudly as they made their way towards the exit. Not wanting to look like a weirdo, I discreetly stole glances at them, envying their perfect hair and bodies swaying with each step. They were the epitome of popularity in our school, often referred to as the It Girls given by yours truly. I felt jealousy surge through my veins. They looked like fucking models while I’m over here looking like Plain Jane’s sister, Basic Betty.

There was one girl in particular out of the bunch that stood out to me, Jinx. Not only was her name super edgy, but she was the most gorgeous girl to me. Her strikingly long blue hair was typically meticulously woven into two flawless braids, cascading gracefully down to her ankles. Her complexion? Flawless. Her outfits were always so trendy, constantly wearing a mixture of alternative, yet stylish comfy clothes. And, probably one of my favorite attributes about her, she had a sleeve of baby blue cloud tattoos going down her right arm that were almost always visible. That girl was just effortlessly oozing perfection. She was so lucky. 

“Ready?” I asked Calista, tearing my eyes away from the girls, hoisting a single backpack strap on my shoulder. She replied with a smile and started towards the exit.

As I tailed a few steps behind her, my mind once again started to plummet into a tumultuous sea of self-deprecating thoughts, each wave crashing against the shores of my consciousness with a relentless force, dragging me deeper into the abyss of despair. God, I wanted to be her.

[moonsidesong]

Few questions;

1. What is favorite CD you got?

2. Favorite music artist?

3. Show me your CD collection pls :) (not a question, but still)

4. How does one do a tumblr? (I'm new new)

oh man my favorite? that's a hard choice, but right now it's probably my copy of the ltd edition version of splatoon 2 live in makuhari/tentalive (it's a recording of the off the hook concert that included octo expansion's music)

both the sleeve and the jewel case cover art is so gorgeous, i love the concert itself, and off the hook just means a lot to me... also i like how they called it the limited edition version even though it's literally still in print five years later LOOOOL

as for my favorite music artist... i don't really know right now!!!! i listen to mostly vgm like a nerd 😭😭😭 i've been into SacriStuff's recent music for a while though, evergreen and boot up 2 are both real good albums and if i ever get into burning my own CDs they're definitely on my radar. i'm also really fond of harumaki gohan's music :) i wouldn't say im like huge into vocaloid necessarily but ive been meaning to look into more artists there ... really excited for my copy of daemon/doll to arrive on that note!!!

i'll talk abt my full collection under the cut, but as for how you use tumblr i'm not sure what you mean? if you have any specific questions i might be able to help better lol

here's my full collection! i have most of them on a bookshelf but i have zun's music collection (except the newest one, i need to reorganize to account for it and ive been putting that off), akyuu's untouched score, and the touhou fighter albums all displayed on my walls :) sorry abt the low quality pics it is unfortunately difficult to get good pictures of glossy plastic

* when i say all the touhou three fairies cds i unfortunately exclude the original one from eastern and little nature deity. too rare and expensive :(

* (OH ALSO not included here is the CD released with the physical collector's edition of Undertale. i don't have it with the others because it's in a DVD case and not a jewel case and wouldn't fit with the others, so i have it shelved elsewhere.)

honorable mention for one of my favorites goes to the bonus CD for touhou urban legend in limbo on ps4 (the cd with the bunny girl on it).... it's a bit rarer find and i found it relatively cheap so im proud of that LOL

also like i've said before i rip all of the contents of my cds and store them as .wav and .m4a files on my computer. (the latter would have album art/composer/etc metadata and translated when applicable, but the former doesn't. bc. wav can't do that)

for the most part if i have something any of you would like im happy to share my files! with the exception of some of the like. smaller indie stuff, bc of course i'd rather folks go support that where they can. also most of these are still in print and were bought new so if you're curious abt where you can pick it up yourself anyone's welcome to ask about any of em :)

[folansstuff]

Considering the way that she got her new outfit in Vita Ayala's New Mutants is kind of a Sailor Moon/Magi(k)cal (hah) girl send up, I could totally imagine Illyana getting super into Sailor Moon as a young girl. Seeing girls around her age with similar magical powers without the associated trauma could give her a way to ignore her problems for a little while, and imagine herself in the role of Usagi, fighting evil with her friends (Kitty and the New Mutants) and a cute animal sidekick (Lockheed) without any of the pesky Limbo stuff. And even into her twenties she watches every reboot and does an annual rewatch of the original, which would influence how she manifested her new uniform.

It's also very cute to imagine her buying merch and trying to hide that she likes the traditionally 'girly' show from her friends and family, but she has the whole manga print run on a bookshelf somewhere.

[tarohonii]

Soliloquy As I Stare At The Wall

1.

When will we ever be adults? Why do we mourn childhood when we are still so young, so immature? When we threw our caps in the air, I wondered, why did I cry like I was saying goodbye to something that would only revisit me time and time again? 

I am still a child. Just without the make-believe. I put on lipstick I am too young for. I shrink away when my mother raises her voice at me. I eat candy and it rots my teeth. I sit at the top of the stairs and bite my nails and listen to my parents talk in low voices. I am scared of the dark, and the monster in my chest. 

2. 

Home has become a limbo, a waiting room where I fill out a checklist of my symptoms. I do not know if I’m waiting for someone to walk through the door. Maybe I am waiting for the foundation to crumble and someone to laugh and point at me after they wipe my tears. I’m still too young to understand. 

3. 

Or maybe…actually-nevermind…or-maybe I know what home is. Because home does not necessarily have to mean it's a good thing, right? When I am welcomed home, the sandbag and stones fall back into my stomach. It’s a welcome home gift-it would be rude to throw it back up.I stare at the blurry book titles on the table, the cross on the wall the corner of the cracked bookshelf. The stones begin to feel like the weight of my sins. I have felt this way since I was a child. It’s familiar-so this is home. Right? 

I do not know the answer. Maybe a doctor will help-or maybe I should sleep on it. After all, it is past 4 p.m. and I can no longer trust my thoughts when I’m this tired. I take my shoes off and curl my legs into myself and the bed is a little too small. I’m not as tall as you think I am- I have only grown another layer each time I come home, that’s all. I’ll take it all off if you tell me to, though, so don’t worry. Your precious daughter is still under there, somewhere. 

I’m sorry-nevermind. Forget I said that. I know my tone was rude. 

4. 

I do not doubt your love. I am afraid of it. 

5. 

I wondered when it started. Since when did my voice shake when I started talking to you? Since when did my mother telling me that I was just like her become an insult rather than flattery? How old was I, I wondered, when the erosion began?

Does my anger burn righteously or is it the pits of hell that you see?

Do you see the smoke, mother, when you look at our reflection?

[dorakonia]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN!

What's your phone's wallpaper: A fanart piece of Pantalone from Genshin Impact skdjfhsdf it's been there for the past half a year, and it's funny because I used to change my background fairly often before but nowadays I'm just too lazy to change it. So I guess he'll be there until I find something new that I really really like.

Last song you listened to: Idk man, I'm listening to music daily so songs come and go every 4-5 minute skdjhfsf But I guess I could put down the song I'm listening to right now while typing this - "You Are My Sunshine" by Johnny Cash.

Currently reading: Kuroshitsuji. I'm really bad at sitting down and reading books so I usually listen to audio books instead but I love collecting books for some reason skdjfhsdf, but keeping up with the Kuroshitsuji manga is easy since one chapter is released every month, and ngl, I would do the same to other on-going manga series but that would require me to... y'know, sit down and read a lot just to catch up skdjfhsd but I do have Vanitas no Carte in the backburner that I'll eventually get to reading in full. Same goes for the Sailor Moon manga, which I actually own the entire collection of, and I have read at least 3 volumes of it + the volumes with the bonus stories. But in general the collection is just... sitting on my bookshelf collecting dust 😭

Last movie: Uhhhh.... I used to watch movies so much but nowadays I'm too addicted to youtube content to really sit down and watch movies, because it's always such a hassle because every time a movie is over I'm sitting there like 'ok now what to watch' and then I get stuck in limbo of what I feel like watching skdjfhsd And youtube is endless. But I think that the last movie I watched was "Pokémon: Mewtwo Strikes Back - Evolution" with @jinanreona :3

Last show: ... Same thing here, I don't watch a lot of shows either. And if I do, I usually rewatch shows I'm already familiar with ksdjhfsdf I think the last show I watched in whole was The Walking Dead back in February. And a couple of weeks ago I watched a few Kuroshitsuji episodes with @dokitm! But I think that's about it skjdfhsdf

What are you wearing right now?: .... That is kind of a personal question, isn't it😏

Piercings/tattoos?: No tattoos, but I'd like to have one one day when I'm financially stable to get one skdjhfsd I've had plenty of piercings tho. I got my ears pierced when I was 7 and I still have those, and then when I was 15 I pierced them again so I had two beside each other on each ear. Then when I was 17 I got one for my nose but I let it grow away like 3 years later because I thought it always looked like I had a giant decorative zit on there skjfsd Then I got a navel one when I was 21, and I actually loved it a lot and had it for years. But then one day the jewelry came loose and I couldn't be bothered to get a new one and that one too eventually grew away. I've always wanted a tongue piercing, but it has just never really happened yet. Maybe some day~

Glasses? Contacts?: Reading glasses~

Last thing you ate: My lunch today - salmon in white sauce and boiled potatoes~

Favourite colour(s)?: For stand-alone colours my favorites are black and blue. For colour combos, my all-time favourite is black/white/red, and I also really like purple/pink/orange/yellow.

Current obsession: Uh... I'm very particular in the way I obsess about things skjdfhsdf I don't have a lot of things that I obsess over, but I have a couple that I keep switching between depending on what kind of content I'm exposed to and/or engage in at the moment. Like, for example, right now my current obsession is Breath of the Wild because I'm replaying it to get into the hype for Tears of the Kingdom that is coming out tomorrow (!!!!), and I've been obsessing about it for at least 2 months straight now just because of that. But like... even tho I've been playing a lot, I still don't play every day. And the days when I don't play, I'm obsessing over any of my other interests. And whenever I'm not obsessing over those, I'm obsessing over the one remainder thing. The other day I was obsessing over Warcraft lore because I was spending a whole day playing WoW, and before then I was obsessing over Genshin, and before then it was something else. I obsess over the same things but I do it in phases, and I rarely get new obsessions ksdjhfsdf And ofc, in-between all of these interests, I'm constantly (tho subconsciously) obsessing over Kuroshitsuji and Twisted Wonderland ( Sebastian and Malleus specifically ofc ) :'3 It's like when my mind isn't occupied with anything in particular, Sebastian and Malleus is always living rent free in my head, and I spend my time drawing fanart of them.~

Do you have a crush right now?: Nope. Thus is the life of a demi.~

Favourite fictional character: If I don't say Sebastian Michaelis here I cannot in good faith call myself the biggest Sebastian apologist to have walked this Earth.... but Malleus, Yuugi (ygo), Howl (howl's moving castle - mostly the book version because he's such a little shit there and i absolutely love it, but the movie version is what i was introduced to and it will forever hold a special place in my heart), Zhongli (genshin), Fiore (sailor moon), Mamoru (sailor moon - manga and smc have him much better fleshed out and i love it, but he 90s anime will obviously always have a special place in my heart because it is what i grew up watching ♥ ), Lady Mipha (loz: botw), and Harley Quinn (btas as well as the newer animated harley quinn series) are all ofc huge faves of mine as well ;w; There's absolutely more but.... we'd be here all day~

TAGGED BY: @gosutm , @jinanreona , @pomfiores (thank you guys!!) TAGGING: I think almost everyone has already done this one so I'm just gonna uhhhh tag some that I don't think have done it so uhhhh @casketdweller, @svmmoning, @niiveusx, @decayedhearts, @chxmpionofjustice, @universestreasures, && @ofcryptid!

[charliecarter13]

OMG LOOK THE FORMATTING WORKS!! ANYWAYS HERES THE NIGHTMARE!! THIS BABY WAS FUNDED BY SIX PAGES OF INFO ON SMOKE INHALATION!

[this starts off felWilbur already in the dream, so that means he could actually just sleep by himself in the dream, and actually sorta just passed out in real life from exhaustion. this means that when he 'wakes up' at the beginning, he's still actually dreaming! the things in italics (besides what Mumza says) is all in the real world, while everything in normal text is in the dream.]

   For some odd reason, Wilbur had been able to sleep that night. He had summoned the courage to take a shower and change into fresh pajamas; he had summoned the courage to brush his teeth, wash his face, and brush his hair. He really hadn't been taking good care of himself lately. Yeesh.

   Well, now Wilbur was slipping under his covers, taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside table. He paused as his hand slid over the knob to the drawer. Maybe...

   No. No, he had already bandaged up his arms. He couldn't go for the lighter now, not when he was having such fortunate luck to have motivation to actually take care of himself for once.

   He took his hand away slowly, turning off the lamp and hiding in the thick, weighted blanket, curled around his blue sheep plush.

   Wilbur closed his eyes, feeling himself start drifting away from reality and into his dream. This was the easiest he had slept since his..

   Since they...

   He opened his eyes, hands tangling into the locket around his neck gently. Carefully, he lifted the locket to his lips and kissed it, before flipping open the heart and thumbing at the small compass inside. He let out a sigh and closed it, letting his eyes shut again.

   It had been awhile since they died. He needed to get over it, like everyone else. Phil never seemed very upset, Techno looked like he didn't think about it a lot, (authors note: Techno does, in fact, think about it a lot. he just pretends he doesnt, he's pretty good at masking emotions) so why couldn't Wilbur?

   Feeling his thoughts start to spiral, he immediately started trying to take deep breaths. He did not want to deal with tonight.

   After a moment of calming himself, he felt his body going limp into the mattress, and then void invaded his mind.

   The dream Wilbur was having was actually pretty nice and comforting for once. And then.. Smoke fogged up the dream, covering his vision. He could no longer see the comforting glow of the lantern in his dream.

   He shot up, coughing hard. Such a pleasant way to wake up. He scowled, before sniffing smoke in the air. His eyes widened, hands reaching for his glasses quickly. He slipped them on, and looked around. He could smell and see thick clouds of dark gray smoke. He recognized that well; fire.

   Throwing off his covers, he coughed and tried to recall what he learned at the fire department on those mandatory field trips when he was way younger. Crap, he couldn't remember what you needed to do. He dashed towards his door, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve to try and stop from inhaling a lot of smoke. He placed his hand on the doorknob.

   Wilbur yelped and stumbled backwards, rubbing his hand where the doorknob had burned him. He wasn't prepared for that, and now he feels the heat behind his door. The fire is in the hallway.

   He stumbles to his bookshelf, grabbing his diary with his hand that remained without any burns on it. Then, he looked around the room to try and find an exit.

   His eyes caught on the window. Oh no. He has no other exit besides the window...

   If this were any other year, he'd gratefully accept his fate and let the fire seep into his room, giving him a taste of hell and hopefully taking him there, as well. But since then, he's sorta got people to live for.. And plus, limbo was just unpleasant that one time he went for awhile. And by fire, for that fact.

   So, all he could do was leap out the window and hope for the best. He coughed and coughed, coughing up black soot. He ignored it as he wiped it on his pajama pants.

   Wilbur stumbled over to the window, feeling how it was getting harder to breathe, his head pounding. His chest tightened and hurt, his eyes drooping. He was getting drowsy, and was coughing really hard.

   He unlocked the latch on the window, pushing it up. He grabbed his blanket and tossed it down, hoping it would cushion the fall a bit.

   His body was trembling. He was afraid to jump, but he knew he needed to. It would be better to be injured from hitting the ground than dead by fire..

   Taking a deep, raspy breath, (and coughing afterwards) he pushed off the window sill, falling down onto the blanket. He cursed as he hit the ground, hitting his arm and side in the process. It was painful, but still better than being dead. He could feel the fire from the first floor through the wall, and he quickly scrambled to his feet.

   Wilbur grabbed the blanket, and dashed to the trees on the far edge of the property. The family had decided that would be where they would go if they needed to evacuate or a fire started.

   Techno was on the phone, talking with the fire department to get a fire truck sent to their house. His hair was long.. Hadn't he cut it a few days ago? It wouldn't be this long again.. Huh. Wilbur must've forgotten. He couldn't think clearly right now anyways.

   Phil was sitting next to Tommy, fretting over him, picking pieces of ash from his hair and checking over his burns.

   Tommy, on the other hand, looked quite annoyed at this. He looked a bit frightened from the fire, yes, but that seemed to be drowned out by his annoyance that Phil is acting like he was still just a baby fledgling.

   Mumza was holding Child close, rocking them and trying to soothe them as they cried. There was no doubt they were terrified. In fact, it seemed everyone was terrified, but Child seemed to be the most upset. They were only five, anyways. They didn't know what was happening.

   Tubbo was pacing back and forth, pushing his hair up every now and again so he could actually see. It seems he was having a bit of trouble himself, with his emotions about this. Wilbur knew he must be upset; the boy had firework scars all over his body, of course he would be afraid of fire.

   Wilbur found it harder and harder to focus as he sat on the ground, wheezing and trying to breathe. But he just.. Couldn't. His lungs ached, his nose runny. He had a brain-splitting headache, and his mind was getting a bit cloudy. His vision was hazy, although he could see that his skin was a bit ashen, and his veins appeared to be.. Bright red. (authors note; red veins are a sign of carbon monoxide poisoning!)

   Phil looked up from Tommy for a second, counting everyone. "..five, six, seven.. Okay, good. Everyone is here." He muttered.

   Wilbur lifted his eyes, brows furrowed. Seven? He could've sworn there were eight people in the family, including him..

   Then, his eyes widened, as he remembered.

   Ranboo.

   He jumped up, ignoring the sharp pain that laced up his side, ignoring how the burn on his palm hurt as it hit the ground. He coughed violently for a second, before turning to Phil.

   "..R-.. Ran– cough– Ranboo i-isn't o.. outside..!"

   Wilbur exclaimed, his voice hoarse and rough. Everyone looked up at him, confused.

   "Well, yeah, Ranboo isn't outside cause they're de–" Tommy started, getting cut off by none other than his own mother.

   "–in Australia, remember?" She reminded sternly, vaguely motioning towards Child. Child didn't pick up on this though, too busy hiding in Mumza's arms.

   Wilbur couldn't make out a word any of them said. He couldn't hear them, anyways. His ears were ringing, and they hurt. His mind was clouded with smog and all he felt was panic and delirium at the idea Ranboo was still inside. He coughed once more and turned towards the house, taking off towards it.

   "I've– cough– gotta s– save them..!"

   He exclaims, not being able to hear the protests. He knew someone was following after him; he wasn't stupid, after all. Wilbur knew one of his family members would be running to try and stop him from going into the fire.

   Looking back, he saw that Techno had set off after him. Wilbur sped up, not bothering to try and fiddle with his wings so he could fly. Luckily, despite Techno being really fast, Wilbur out ran him. That was a first.

   Placing his hand on the doorknob, he ignored as the skin sizzled and burned, swinging the door open. He ran inside, immediately starting to cough again. He could feel the heat from the fire, could feel the flames licking at his body, trying to catch.

   He ran in the house, screaming Ranboo's name despite his sore vocal cords. He wanted – no, needed,– to find them. He wouldn't let them be taken out by the fire.

   One fatal flaw in that plan; Ranboo was already dead. They had died awhile ago, but Wilbur didn't realize that. He also didn't realize this was all a dream. It felt too real to him. Poor Wilbur.

   Wilbur's chest tightened, his vision fogging. He couldn't think anymore, his headache pounding. His chest hurt so much, and he couldn't stop coughing. Eventually, as he was running up the stairs, his legs gave in, and he felt to the hard, hot, burning floor with a yelp.

   He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain of flames licking at his skin and forced himself to go up the stairs on his hands and knees.

   The pain was unbearable, long and dragged out, but he needed to...

   He needed...

   Wait, what was he doing in here again?

   His eyes were getting heavy, his vision foggy. It felt like his mind had been covered in plastic wrap over and over. His head pounded, and it was like all he could feel was the fire burning his skin, his heaving chest as it felt he was coughing up a lung, and his head feeling as though it was being smashed in with a hammer.

   Without warning, the coughing turned into gagging, and black, sooty bile came up his throat. He let out a sob, finally letting tears take over. His vision was getting hazy, mind clouded with confusion, delirium, and panic.

   He barely made it up the stairs before the fire behind him roared, knocking him completely to the ground. The fire climbed up his back, setting his clothes on fire first. Then, his wings. He cried out in pain as the fire tore at his wings painfully, the delicate feathers catching flame. It hurt like hell.

   The fire made its way around his body, burning his skin and face, and hair..

   He coughed up black, sooty mucus, finally realizing what was wrong. Smoke inhalation. There wasn't anything he could do.. He had inhaled way more smoke than was recommended (which is, unsurprisingly, zero) and was currently burning alive.

   Wilbur collapsed, eyes closing as the flames ravaged his body, tearing away at his flesh and toasting his bones.

   Wilbur shot up with a gasp, rubbing at his eyes to wake up quicker. His arms reached for his plushie and wrapped around it, hiding his face in it.. It took him a second to realize there was no fire, there was no smoke, there was just him, alone, in his room.

   Everyone else was asleep, though he could hear the faint sound of Tommy playing his discs and scribbling.

   He tried to catch his breath, but he couldn't breathe. He really needed Ranboo to calm him down just about now...

   If only they weren't dead.

   The pain of remembering that was almost as painful as the dream. Still; he'd prefer the dream over reality. That would mean there'd be a change they were still alive.

   They weren't, unfortunately.

OMFGGGG IM IN LOVEEEEE!!! You even mentioned Tommy’s obsession!! If you’d like, i can send you what i have on the next chapter for my series from Secret Fluff!

[sleepyblr-heart]

hi its time for me to go insane again <3 this one is extra long so if you care about what's happening on @original-character-championship click the read more for my silly words!!

ok so. picking up from last time. Yellow tells Present he accidentally made her a demi-god. they have a mini training montage. (she does not learn much. he is the god of stupidity so this is to be expected). after that. he drops her off. on T island. not at home. where she was before. but T island

Pres does NOT want to be here, and realizes "hey. i can get revived at blood moon films. the place i got revived at last time. hm."and decides being dead for a bit is better than being back on this fucking island (but Alone this time). Before she's revived she stays at her limbo for a bit (i will prolly show off what it looks like later).

soon, she gets revived by Depressed Glass (they/them), who is Snowglobe's childhood friend and a body snatcher! They take Present to Red Circle (they/them), one of Baton's friends and the person that helped revive her last time. Red circle says that Baton is safe, at their house, and misses her so very very much. They decide to go visit Baton and Black Square (he/him) (red circle's boyfriend) during RC's break.

Present decides to drop that she's kind of god and the world is ending in like the worst way possible (this will be an important tool that'll help us later!). Also Baton maybe gets a lil bit cursed on accident by her adopted kid that kidnapped him (Hattish (any pronouns)). But it's finneee.

Anyways, Present gets taken to the 4th Wall for a bit because of God Shenanigans, and before she goes back Present and one of the gods, Purple, have a nice chat! They even start teaching her how to do (minor) shapeshifting! All she can do at the moment is change her ribbon color, but she gets better at it eventually!

She goes back to RC and BS's house, and everything is swell for a bit. She misses Snowglobe, and is a bit worried for her and Baton, but other than that everything is fine!

After a few days, Present is taking a nice nap on the couch, Baton just sitting on the floor in front of a very nice bookshelf, just waking up from her own nap. And oh ok. The Bookshelf fell on top of her. Dear god.

Luckily, her plastic is strong enough that she Doesn't die, but she is bleeding a lot, he cant move, and Present is freaking out so much, especially since BS and RC are at work at the time. Luckily, two gods (Red and Yellow) decide to help get Baton to the hospital. Yellow helps with the surgery (Because he is Definitely a surgeon and did not fake any documents). And oh hey, look who's in the same hospital room! It's depressed glass! wonder why they're here.

anyways! Thanks to more God Shenanigans Snowglobe is brought to the 4th wall, along with Present so they can meet. Present catches her up on everything and they both realize. Hey. These god guys. Kinda Suck. They haven't told her much of anything, not about her powers or what she needs to do to save the world. She has a bit of a breakdown about the whole situation, since she doesn't. Want any of this, and Snowglobe tries to help comfort her.

They are brought back to the hospital room and Snowglobe and Depressed Glass have a chat about how they Definitely tried to avenge her death by murdering Red Circle and also took over two innocent people's bodies. Luckily, DG Realized that "hey, this is a bad idea. and totally not what she would want. also she's alive again so. maybe. i should give up on this." Plus, they already had their shit rocked by one of the people they possessed (oh hey that's why they're in the hospital!) so everyone decides that was stupid, and as long as they work to be better. and try to apologize to the people they hurt. they're fine.

anyways! more god shenanigans. this time they accidentally swapped a few peoples bodies. Luckily, we only need to worry about a few! Present and Snowglobe swapped bodies, and Baton and Red Circle also swapped. And oh hey. the God Shenanigans are now Everyone shenanigans. Turns out, the gods really hate this One Really Old Man named Angelsea(he/him). And they want everyone in this room to help murder him (besides red because they were. not in the plan.)

The first part of the plan is to get this random guy no one here besides Depressed Glass could know, Toothbrush (he/they). They're here because they work security at Blood Moon Films, and he could deal with the security cameras in the hospital!

They do not want to help with a murder plan. But they really need the help, so... Red convinces Present, in snowglobes body, to take over Toothbrushes body. She really only agrees to do it cause... Why should she not? She's supposed to help them, and maybe helping them kill this man she doesn't know will help save the world! (plus, she doesn't want to disappoint them)

So, Present takes over Toothbrush's body, and the murder plan goes. About as well as you would expect. Present and Toothbrush do their part well, at least. And once Angelsea is dead, Present separates from Toothbrush, killing them both (for now)

Present is revived by Baton (in red circle's body). Baton had visited Red circle in their body and they told her about the... whole murder plan thing. And is... A bit disappointed. Not for the murder (well i mean. yes the murder but that's not it), but the fact she just... Went along with what the god had asked of her. It's not like SHE wanted to do it, in the first place. Baton talks to her a bit, and tell her that she shouldn't do things just because these LOSERS told her to. And that maybe. She should quit.

She says she'll talk to the gods about it (she never does) and they head back to RC's home. Present realizes Snowglobe went missing after the murder plan, and no matter where she and baton look they can't find her. It's probably fine.

anyways present and snow globe got kidnapped by the older gods (Plants and Bookmark (they/them for both)) to fix the fact they were body swapped. Unfortunately bookmark is a lil stupid and fucked up present's wrapping paper so they replaced it themselves.

anyways the older gods dropped them off in an alleyway. but at least they were in the correct bodies (🎉🎉🎉)

anyways. remember how present told baton that she was a demi-god? yeah uh. She Wasn't supposed to do that. Purple and Red told the two that. Because Purple accidentally told baton their Real names when trying to help return her to the correct body, and present told him about the god thing, Yellow decided that he knew Too Much and her memories had to be erased.

Yellow, however, is still god of stupidity. He meant to just get rid of any memories related to the gods, but instead got rid of any memories related to magic at all. Luckily, any memories not directly related to gods were not Completely removed, they were so blurry that is was difficult to remember any details about it. Oh btw she had been surrounded by magic for the 6 years that this story had taken place over.

Purple and red help them back to RC's house, where baton is (no, she was Not properly released from the hospital but. it's fineee) and they all have a nice reunion where baton almost immediately thinks she cheated on her girlfriend with Red Circle because of a fake news article that she had read.

Anyways, some less important things happen. snowglobe gets fed a person thinking it's koolaid. that person might've been a potion. that potion might've been a love amplification potion. you know. normal things.

anyways snowglobe decides to tell present and baton that she developed feelings for them both (being small crushes amplified by the "koolaid"). turns out, present and baton also had feelings (ones they had talked about together before hand) for snowglobe. so they say "fuck it. lets date." and bam. bitches acquired.

and that's the end for. todays insanity. ill see you next time. because there's still more to cover. (there's. so much to cover. i might save some for next round if she wins. so vote for her if you wanna hear more of her story!)

[wrappedupinbooksblog]

Ease Your Feet Off In The Sea: Call Me By Your Name

During the hectic period of non-stop flashcards and mind maps, I had little to no time to sit down and pick up a book. I either simply had no time, or my mind kept drifting back to memorised Othello quotes and dates of Thomas Moore’s influence over the King, to put it short, the only thing I read for pleasure in those months were the finishing pages of Mendez’ ‘Rainbow Milk’ in a week I had spare between exams. Then suddenly as those final seconds ticked down on the watchful digital clock on the wall of the exam hall on my final exam, I thought to myself: now what? I suddenly had a very large void taking shape in me that I had never experienced- it used to be filled with revision, homework, or even after-school clubs- but now everything I new was gone.

I’m still in that limbo stage between A Levels and University, but with results creeping up and the need to catch up with what I’ve missed it’s been easier to secure my feet to the ground. To be honest, I think having nothing to do for weeks is the perfect medicine for a reading drought. As soon as the sun shone over the Monday following my last exam, I packed my bags with the essentials (books) and left for my grandparents’ home: the ideal slow-paced lifestyle. And I exploited every aspect of that.

Sat with my legs curled up on an old sofa and cup of tea in hand, I opened up my first novel in over a month: Call Me By Your Name. As one of my closest friends had described it, this book was the perfect way to dip your toes into the pool of summer as it began to warm under the Sun’s rays. Setting a certain scene in the hotel bathroom aside, Aciman’s portrayal of the yearning soul under the strain of a fruitful and erotically blooming summer was everything I could have asked for at this time. It was serene and meditative, like listening to Sufjan Stevens for the first time or feeling the grass between your toes, completely suspended in the unreality of summer and refreshing breeze of being alive. Immediately I was captivated by Aciman’s raw strip back as the reader was not only invited into the story, but inhabited Elio’s own flesh (I noted very early on that we do not learn Elio’s name until a considerable amount of the novel has been read- as if Aciman is demanding loyalty to the story or an empathy that can only be found by subjecting you to the penetrating emotion before you can become acquainted with his surface).

This story of first and seemingly lasting love scaling the lengths and depths of time was a perfect combination of everything I desired after such an intense period of academic upheaval: it had the simplicity of a young romance (its ease to follow and smooth transitional feel much like that of the cello harp duet ‘The Swan’ by Sebastian Comberti and Miriam Keough I am listening to as I write) but also the literary depth of a classic I was so familiar with studying on an academic level that I could not only walk on the shallow clear puddles of a pool left by a Casey McQuiston novel, but also submerge my entire being in the sensual, passionate, and religious depths of an ocean of tears shed by unpronounceable tragedy.

It has now been over a month since I tidied Call Me By Your Name back in the A section of my home bookshelf, but as I sit leafing back through the pages graced not so long ago and rereading passages highlighted with an appropriately peach felt-tipped ink has, beyond currents of obsession and fear, uncovered the site of my heart’s burial: set for eternity in a restless summer on the Italian Riviera where a powerful romance will bloom between seventeen-year-old Elio and his father’s house guest, Oliver.

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 11: Self and Duck Updates

I took a long nap after work because I was just so tired. I have this sort of feeling like I'm sick or getting sick but it's like not specific enough to take a sick day or anything so I'm just like... continuing on with my routine as if nothing were amiss. But I'm feeling rather stressed about it. Like I'm in a sort of limbo.

While napping, I had these dreams, in which I was reading these really effed up books, which just kept getting more and more violent, and in the dream I was actively trying to talk out to myself why I should feel okay putting the books down and not finishing them, even though I don't like not finishing stuff.

Duck updates: There was another spate of them yesterday, but already today most of them seem to be gone. Half the mailbox ducks are gone, including the library mailbox one, which I do consider a theft. Also gone are the one outside the RBR, the one somehow on the outside of the window over the staircase, and the little green one on top of the bookshelf near the TS door, which I regret not hoarding away for myself. I did take one of the pink ones from the sign above the book return.

I really didn't accomplish anything after work today other than this nap and like... I did not feel up to anything and I needed the nap so I don't regret it, but I also feel quite bad now. Full of anxiety and worry. I hate feeling like I've burned out on this week and it's only Tuesday but I'm not really sure what else to do. I hope that the extra rest today will make tomorrow better.