#silver stemware

[meekamaye]

Winter Memories

(I wrote this a couple of years ago on a very cold Minnesota day. Today it is 91 degrees on the last day of July.) This time of year puts me in mind of my grandparents cabin in northern Minnesota. I stroll through the cabin once again and recall the little cast iron stove that heated the three main rooms; the living room, kitchen and bedroom. The back bedroom, which had been my brother’s was…

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Red and Silver ~

[persephoneflouwers]

Lol yeah sometimes my mother will catch me drinking tea out of a fancy silver teapot with a beautiful teacup or walking around with stemware at 11am and she’s like “why???” But why not? Otherwise the teapot just gets tarnished and unused and the stemware collects dust since I don’t drink alcohol that often. And it’s fun. Right now I’m actually drinking Gatorade out of a vintage fancy goblet because I’m a bit sick (otherwise I never drink Gatorade) and you know what? It has actively put me in a happier mood.

Oh my god haha that sounds fun. I agree, when you do something like this your mood changes. Sometimes I just drink water with a straw because it feels more refreshing, can you believe it? it’s all in your head 💀brain works in mysterious ways

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter Five: A Well Mannered Dinner

Epel gets a crash course in eating Ettique from Vil and Rook after his bath.

No warnings, but Vil is a butt.

Previous | Next Chapter | Fic Index

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55557751?view_full_work=true

Alone for the first time in hours, Epel turns back toward the bathroom mirror. And then he blinks, deeply shocked by the reflection peering back at him. Is that… him?! No, it’s gotta be the lights, or maybe just something Vil smeared on him. His skin’s always been fair, but now it’s so pale that it’s practically glowing. His hair tumbles around his face in graceful, feather-soft waves, like a commercial for some highfalutin shampoo. The sunbleached highlights that used to streak the top are gone. So are the freckles that he VERY MUCH remembers having across his cheekbones. Vil washed off his freckles?! 

“The hell?” He takes a step forward and drops the towel down around his waist to better see his reflection. His freckles ain’t the only thing that’s missing. A little scar on his chin from where he fell out of a tree as a kid? Gone. That touch of farmers’ tan around his forearms? All gone. Even the scrapes and bruises from his fight with Vil are almost gone, even though he still feels a little sore…

“Epel, come to the table.”

Epel jumps as he hears Vil calling to him. 

"Wha... what..?" He wrenches his focus away from the mirror and peeks out of the bathroom. Is Rook gone? He barely wants to look at himself, let alone show his face in front of another person! He looks like a prissy lil' princess!

He cringes as he sees that Rook is very much not gone. He’s currently taking plates and bowls of off a large, silver tray, and laying out three place settings. Epel can’t help staring at the covered dishes. It smells so good…

“Epel, get dressed and then join us,” Vil repeats with long-suffering sigh. The clothes hanger where his ceremonial robes were stowed fly out of an alcove and land on the towel rack in the bathroom. Epel flushes pink, then rapidly shuts the bathroom door and jams his clothes back on. Is he gonna get dinner after all? 

Fully dressed, he shuffles out of the bathroom with his head down and his arms tightly crossed. “Uh… hi Rook.” 

”Monsieur Pommette! You appear as a vision, radiant and ephemeral. Please, sit!” He holds out a chair for Epel to sit in. Vil is already seated with a stemware glass in one hand, staring distantly into the contents.  

“Uuuh… thanks?” Epel isn’t sure how he feels about those compliments. He looks at the table, and chair. It's more than a little awkward, being the only one at a table two older, and unfamiliar men across from him. “That’s a lot of forks…” 

“Ha ha! The usual amount for a meal of this nature,” Rook assures him. Epel peers down at his place setting, but to his disappointment the only thing he’s got is a bowl full of water with a couple rose petals floating on the surface.

‘Weird way to serve water. I guess that’s what fancy folk do.’ He reaches for the bowl, and brings it to his lips…

Rook makes a surprised little sound and reaches out, pressing down on the lip of the bowl to keep Epel from drinking the water.

"You see? I told you he wasn't fit to eat with the others," Vil grumbles. 

“A perceptive assessment,” Rook chuckles ruefully.

"What?" Epel asks, looking between Rook and Vil with baffled irritation. He didn’t wanna eat with all those sissy weaklings anyway, and he’s thirsty after sittin’ in hot water for the better part of an hour! "Ain't... Isn't this something you drink from?" 

Rook laughs again. "Non, non non, you dip your fingers, like so." 

He guides Epel's hands down to the bowl and dips just his fingertips into the water.

“But why?” Epel blinks down as the stupid rose petals cling to his knuckles. You wash your hands at the sink, not at the table.

"If you were to come directly from a gala, then you must wash before eating," Rook explains in a way that makes no sense. "Next your soup. Use the spoon here." 

He pushes a small bowl of soup on the empty plate in front of Epel, and then points out the spoon that's the furthest from his plate. “Whenever presented with a line of silverware, always work from out to in.”

"..." Epel sighs internally and picks up the stupid spoon. At home, he’d go scrub his hands with actual soap ‘n water in a bathroom sink. Or even pre-wash in a bucket of well-water outside, if he spent the day diggin’ holes for new saplings. This stupid little bowl would get chock full’a mud so fast.

He drags the soup bowl closer to himself, and leans over the plate, eating as quick as he can. He’s starving, and it’s actually pretty good. A leek-and-potato broth with tender bits of fennel, and a strong, caramelized onion taste. The only thing wrong is that there ain’t nearly enough...

"STOP." 

Epel freezes with the spoon halfway to hux mouth. Vil is glaring daggers at him from across the table.

"Leave the bowl on your plate. Bring the spoon to your mouth, and not the other way around. Sip quietly, not like an elephant sating itself at a watering hole,” Vil snaps.

‘... fine.’ Epel grumpily pushes the soup back where it was. He goes to take a bite, but now he can barely get the spoon back’n forth, and it’s too slow when he’s so hungry- 

Vil stands up and walks around behind him. "Hold your head still, and sit up straight. Here." 

“Eugh?!” Epel flinches as he physically grabs his jaw and holds his head in his hard, bony fingers. "Why're ‘ooo hooldin mah head? Owww!" 

"Don't be so dramatic," Vil sighs, but his grip does soften just a little. "Try again."

"Ok, ok!" ‘Oh Man, you've got a strong grip! My head's gonna burst apart!’ Epel grimaces, trying to eat past the fingers squeezing his cheeks like a vice.

"Better," Vil says as he manages to somehow bring that tiny spoon all the way up without spilling. 

"Vil, you need to eat as well," Rook points out softly. Epel flicks his eyes over to Vil’s own, barely-touched food with a frown he can’t really make when his face is gettin’ squeezed. Ain’t Vil hungry too? Is he not gonna eat until Epel gets this stupid posture thing? Something about that doesn't seem right...

"Fair point Rook, Epel hears Vil say, and then blessedly, he lets go. Epel rubs his face with a little grimace watching as he walks out of the room.

“Next course~” 

Epel looks up as Rook hands him a rice and vegetable dish with savoury spices and a creamy sauce with an encouraging smile. Epel picks up the next spoon in the row, and wants to chuck it in the garbage when he sees how small and weirdly pointed it is.

"Here we are. I think this should be close to your size." Vil comes back into the room and walks up behind him. Epel gets just a moment to see something black and padded before Vil starts wrapping it snugly around his neck. "Posture is something that is better attained through self-awareness and physical exercise, but yours is so lacking that some assistance won't go awry."

"Uh... wait wha-?" Epel’s eyes widen as he realizes that he can't tilt his head. He can’t look down, so he can't quite see what's going on as another stretchy thing is wrapped around his shoulders and middle, binding his spine to a rigid bar that forces his head up and his shoulders back. It's tight enough around his lower belly that he can only take shallow breaths, and bending over makes something hard and poky stick into his back. He’s gonna have to eat like this!? He can hardly breathe in this thing! 

Vil sits back down next to Rook and begins to oh-so-delicately eat his own rice-and-vegetable thing. Epel takes a shallow little breath, and just tries to concentrate on eating enough to fill his belly. The food is good, if a little finicky and unsatisfying. It makes him long for the rich, sloppy barbecue and coarse bread of his home, eaten with bare hands and a face covered in sloppy sauce. Ribs, fried chicken~ Ooh, brisket~! Pulled pork sandwiches... 

Epel takes a little breath, feeling stiff and exhausted. The brace forces him to remain straight, but it don’t give any support of its own. It mostly just punishes him for slumping, making him tired and just a touch trembly by the time the final course is served and eaten. 

"Is... dinner over?" he asks, putting down the last of four forks. ‘Kin I git yer torture device offa mah back?!’ 

Vil glares at him, and Epel quickly corrects himself, “Ah… May I be excused?”

"Yes. You may be excused." Vil says tiredly. Rook immediately walks over to Epel.

"Come with me. I'll show you to your room," Rook murmurs, freeing him from the posture corrector in a few quick movements.

“Ahhhhh…” Epel sighs in relief, rolling his cramped shoulders. He's FREE! He just wants to collapse in his bed, snuggle into his quilt and forget about tonight's weirdness and humiliation. 

Rook leads him out of Vil's room, and then to the very next door down the hall. He opens it and holds out a hand, indicating that Epel should go inside. He can see that it's a moderately-sized bedroom with its own, attached bathroom. His luggage is sitting in the middle of the floor, having been delivered earlier that day.

"Sleep well, Monsieur Pomette. And don't fear. You have a strong fighting spirit.”

'Wait... mah room is right next door to Vil's? Well, at least I don’t got a stuck-up, fancy-pants, sissy roommate.' Epel stares at the room, taking in the space. "Thanks. Don't call me Moss... Moss-whatever Pom-et," he grumbles.

"Au revoir, Monsieur Pomette~” Rook says, and the corner of his mouth picks up in a crooked smile. A hint of deep purple bruising has spread across the underside of his right eye from the broken nose. It’s faint, but probably because he put some makeup on to hide it. Epel stares for a moment, feeling a touch proud, but also kinda bad. Rook is weird, but he’s also been the most decent to him in this humiliating, uncomfortable place.

"Uh... Good night?"

Rook closes the door, and leaves him alone.

Epel goes over to his suitcases, and unpacks his pajamas and quilt. He undresses right away, and chucks the ceremonial robe to the floor. Then he crawls on top of the mattress, tosses his quilt over it, and snuggles in. This place is unfamiliar, but his quilt is cozy around his shoulders, a touch of home amongst all this distressing finery. He's real tired, and even though he wasn't able to eat his fill while wearing that ridiculous brace, he's at least not starving.

He falls asleep, and remains deeply asleep until morning.

[twowk]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Rare Zodax Metal Aperitif Glasses.

[ibjb]

Edgar Berebi, an American Atelier, crafting exquisite limited edition pieces in 24K gold plate or silver plated stemware, photo frames, collectible boxes, and desk accessories, and knobs and pulls. Edgar Berebi designs include Swarovski Crystals and guilloche enamel.

[justbysheyda]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Set of 8 vintage Salem Silver plate Portugal wine, champagne Goblets stemware.

[afaceinthecrowdstuff]

Henry's Last Supper

In the formal dining room where ancestral personages starred down from lofty perches, candlelight glistened playfully off cut-glass crystal and freshly polished silver. Decanters of water and wine sat ready to be poured. Place settings of fine porcelain and delicate stemware carefully laid for a party of three. From a discrete stereo Vivaldi’s Four Seasons burbled melodically as flowing water.…

[clittleshop]

I can’t find the pattern name, but they will be listed today, regardless. They are too cool to wait for research. #glasses #gettinglisted #comingsoon #clittleshop #midcenturymodern #midcentury #champagneglass #silver #blue #etched #tall #stemware #glass #vintage #cool (at CLittleShop) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNXHHGXlWWo/?igshid=x3kamzm440as

[txemrn]

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)

Song Inspo: "Everything We Need" by A Day to Remember

Summary: While attending the Bloom's Thanksgiving dinner party, Dr. Tatum Erikson reminisces her earliest memories of the holiday, and learns quickly that those humble traditions won't soon be forgotten thanks to her new family

Word Count: ~3920 (+/-)

Warning: a smidge of angst, but this is fairly fluffy; a few curse words; reference to child abuse and neglect; reference to grief

A/N: Better late than never! I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving! Most of these characters belong to Pixelberry; huge thanks to @kat-tia801 and @ao719 for pre-reading some chunks of this piece.

----------

Small fleeting vapors of her warm breath dance across her crimson lips into the brisk Boston sky; her cheeks glow rosy pink, making her bright eyes sparkle like sapphires even in the darkness of night. Marveling at the glittering twilight, Tatum Erikson steps out further onto the quiet balcony, wrapping her arms around her body. Feeling the goosebumps on her normally soft skin, she wishes she hadn’t let the kind greeter take her jacket. For starters, she wasn’t sure her company for the evening would be approving of the blanket of filigree and lace inked across her entire shoulder cap. But, now that she is chilled, she could really use the extra warmth of her glen plaid peacoat. Who has a coat check-in at a Thanksgiving dinner anyway? Leave it to the Blooms. So pretentious. She had to escape--just for a moment--from the crystal stemware, from the aged brandy, from caviar-garnished, well, everything.

Tatum inches closer to the balustrade, resting her hands on the frigid smooth stone. A simple, flesh-colored surgical scar on her delicate wrist catches her attention before she adjusts her rose-gold bracelet to hide it from sight. The silver crescent moon flirts with her attention, pulling her into the deep sea of her memories: back to a simpler time, back to a time when she still believed in magic and wishing on shooting stars. Basking in the blue moonlight, she cinches her eyes tightly closed. The sounds of obnoxious laughter and the clanging of china from the affluent dinner party diminish into silence. A single, familiar voice echoes softly.

“Tatum?”

Her eyes startle open just in time to watch the remnants of celestial dust streak across the sky. Gasping into a toothy smile she flutters her eyes closed again. And makes a wish.

“Tater Tot?”

And all she can see is him.

“Did you find one?” Eleven-year-old Trevor Erikson grabs an extra blanket, wrapping it snuggly around his six-year-old little sister Tatum. She shakes her head no, her bottom jaw trembling from the cold as she coddles her wrist close to her body. “Well, keep looking, silly! There are plenty of stars out there. We just need one.”

“I’m hungry, Trevor.” Her quiet, innocent voice quivers. “Do you think Mommy is coming to pick us up? She said I could have berry sauce.”

“Cranberry sauce, Tater Tot. It’s called cranberry sauce.” Trevor kindly smirks, playfully gripping her pink-nose between his knuckles.

“Maybe she got lost.” A tinge of hope soars through her tone. “She hasn’t been here in a long time. She might have forgotten.”

Trevor slowly sighs, his face falling as he tries to find the right, tender words to share with his little sister. “Mom was supposed to pick us up this morning for Thanksgiving, Tate. I don’t think she’s coming.” He gingerly rubs her back, “But, hey, I’ll cook us something when Dad gets the power turned back on.”

Tatum nervously looks back outside, her breath fogging up the bedroom window. She hugs her wrist again, her eyes darting back and forth down the dirt road as she looks for the truck’s headlights.

She didn’t mean to make her father mad again. She actually has been trying extra hard not to make him yell as much in hopes for a new pair of shoes from Santa Claus. But, at the mention of her mother, young Tatum became the target of his wrath. When she tried to hide, he caught her by the arm, twisting her wrist until they both heard a crack. Dropping the terrified little girl on the ground, he grabbed his keys and left. That was almost eight hours ago.

Tatum stares intently out the window. This time, she would be prepared. This time, she would be good. This time, she would hide before he could get angry with her.

Trevor continues to look for items that will help keep them warm throughout the night. He has watched his dad burn brush and trash in a barrel outside plenty of times, but he can't find a single match. His father has a secret stash of lighters next to his pack of Marlboro reds in the truck, but once again, he and the truck were nowhere to be found.

Trevor decides to work on the next problem: food. Opening up the pantry, he is dismayed to find bare shelves and empty containers. He discovers a bag of rice, but without power, he is clueless as to how to cook it. Reaching far back in a cabinet, he pulls out a can of cream of celery soup, but they only had an electric can opener. He found a bottle of soy sauce and mustard, but he wasn’t about to feed that to his baby sister, let alone himself.

Frustrated, he storms into his room. He digs into the back of his closet, pulling out an old, tattered shoe box. One by one, he pulls out $1.81 in change. He then slips on his coat, a skull cap, and gloves.

“Trevor?” Tatum chases after her older brother. “Trevor? Where are you going?”

He grabs her jacket, handing it to her to put around her. “We are going to celebrate Thanksgiving. Let’s go get food.” He stops to give a reassuring nod to his sister. “Is that okay, Tater Tot?”

“Tate?”

“Tate?”

A man’s wool sports coat is slipped onto Tatum’s chilled arms; the frigid air suddenly swells with the warmth of Ethan Ramsey’s comforting, woodsy smell. She delicately grabs the lapels, pulling the oversized jacket around her body.

“I know you have to be freezing out here,” he sardonically chuckles, gently combing her curled, blonde locks out from being tucked under his jacket. He then firmly strokes her arms to warm her up before tightening her into an effortless embrace. He presses his lips against the shell of her ear. “Any shooting stars tonight?”

Tatum bites her bottom lip as Ethan’s pout returns to her ear, finding his way to barely grazing her neck. Twirling around in his arms to face him, their mouths meet sweetly, pecking once, twice, three times before she rests her head against the firm planes of his chest.

It had only been a couple of months since Ethan and Tatum had taken the plunge, agreeing to exclusively date each other again. No relationship is perfect; but, even though they each had a ton of baggage to unpack from the last fifteen years, being together was the answer. It had always been the answer.

“Nope. No shooting stars. But you're here now, so I don't need one,” Tatum sweetly whispers, gazing dreamily into Ethan’s eyes.

Clearing his throat, Ethan purses his lips together, choking back a laugh. “Wow. Want some wine with that cheese?”

“Really?" Tatum's face drops into a scowl as she scoffs. “You’re not even using that punny phrase correctly." She rolls her eyes, letting out a dramatic exhale as she pushes away to jokingly pout. "I was trying to be romantic, asshole.”

“Ahh, see? There’s the whine,” he snickers into a knowing smirk. Tatum can't help, but smile in defeat.

Ethan gently takes her elbow, guiding her back into his protective arms. Planting tender kisses in her hair, her eyes flutter, relishing the moment. Finally looking up towards Ethan, his lips instantly find hers, melting into a warming kiss.

A sudden roar of laughter from inside the dinner party abruptly pulls the couple apart. “Well, I guess we better rejoin the group,” Tatum suggests, a clear reluctance in her tone.

“That’s why I came out here.” A look of sorrow flushes Ethan’s stoic demeanor. “There’s a case in the ER needing an ethics committee--”

“Oh no,” Tatum clenches her teeth, giving a mournful look, “that poor family. And on Thanksgiving--”

“Exactly. It’s Thanksgiving. Are you--?”

“I’m fine.” Tatum laces her fingers with Ethan’s. “Duty calls, Chief,” she smiles brightly, jovially saluting him. More than anyone, Tatum understands the demands of Ethan’s job, and likewise, he respects the exigencies of hers.

But, Ethan is right: it is Thanksgiving. Trevor gave Ethan the heads up back in medical school while the soldier was visiting the couple for Christmas between tours. Although she conceals it well, major holidays are bittersweet for Tatum. She wars with herself every year between basking in the joy of the season or getting lost in memories of the past. It's unintentional, but her ghosts are real.

She feigns the role of supportive partner today for him, but mainly because she wants to look and feel normal. But in reality, she needs him. And she hates herself for being that girl.

"Try to have fun, okay?" Ethan offers a crooked smile, pulling Tatum into another hug, finishing with a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll call you.”

Watching him bound out the door, Tatum takes a couple of deep cleansing breaths before rejoining the Bloom's dinner party. Entering the room, she was greeted immediately by several guests, including several newcomers to the party.

“Tatum!”

“Tatum,” Trevor reaches out for his little sister’s hand as they walk into their local Seven-Eleven. The trek was frigid in the sub-freezing temperatures, but luckily the convenience store was less than a mile away. “Stay close to me.”

They walk together over to the ready-made food, their eyes growing large with excitement. Looking at the rolling hot dogs and greasy pieces of pizza instantly made their hungry stomachs growl with glee. But, unfortunately, they were only able to afford one hot dog or one piece of pizza.

“Let’s see if there’s something else that will warm us up and fill us up,” Trevor grins while informing Tatum. He wasn’t about to tell her that he is clueless as to what--or when--they would eat next.

Suddenly, a deep raspy voice of an older woman, wearing a vest with Seven-Eleven logo on it startles them. “Can I help you?” Her face brightens when she recognizes Trevor. “Oh, hey, kid! Your dad want the usual?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Trevor cordially shakes his head. “My sister and I are just grabbing some snacks--”

“It’s sorta late for you two to be out.” Her piercing hazel eyes shift from Trevor to a shy Tatum, hiding behind her big brother. “Don’t you have Thanksgiving leftovers?”

“Oh, um,” Trevor grins, “we wanted something different to eat.” He grabs Tatum’s hand and walks down another aisle.

“Trevor?” Tatum innocently whispers, “what are 'Thanksgiving leftovers'?"

"Remember how Mom talked about all the different types of foods? The turkey? The rolls? The casseroles? The--?"

"--berry sauce?" Tatum interrupts, a smile crawling across her face at the mention of the dish.

Trevor sighs into a chuckle. “Cranberry sauce, Tater Tot. Well, there’s so much food, no one can possibly finish it. So, there is food ‘left over’ for another meal.”

“Wow!” Tatum’s eyes widen with shock. “That’s crazy!”

Trevor leads the way to a shelf with styrofoam cups of pre-packaged Asian noodles. “Now we’re talking,” he breathes a sigh of relief. He smiles when he sees the price: $0.89 for each cup. “Do you want beef or chicken?”

“Can I get berry sauce instead?”

Trevor looks over at his sister who is tenderly holding a dented-in can of cranberry sauce. “Tatum, we can’t--”

“Please, Trevor?” She pleads.

“Tate,” he shifts his eyes around, ensuring no one was listening. “You need to eat something that is going to fill you up and keep you warm. Cranberry sauce is like dessert. It tastes good, but you’re going to be hungry.” He grabs the can, placing it back on the metal shelf. “Besides,” he lowers his voice, “we don’t have enough money.” He hands her the cup of noodles. “Here. I bet you they have a microwave here--”

“No.” Tatum crosses her arms, refusing to take the container.

“Tate?”

“I don’t want noodles. Or-or rice. Or soup.”

“Tatum,” Trevor sternly calls her name, reaching out to rest a calming hand on her shoulder; but she shrugs away with a scowl on her face.

“I want Thanksgiving, Trevor,” she whines. “Why does everyone else get Thanksgiving? And leftovers? And berry sauce?”

“Shhh, Tatum--”

“--and a nice mommy and a daddy?”

Trevor froze, watching the thunderclouds build in her innocent eyes. He doesn’t know how to answer, not because he wants to spare his little sister’s feelings. He honestly doesn’t know the answer to her questions. And, he probably never will.

“Come here, Tate.” He motions for her to come closer, giving her a hug. “I’m sorry--I really am.” He turns his attention to the noodles in his hands. “But, this is the best I can do right now. I promise--next year will be different--”

“‘Scuse me,” the kind, older clerk from earlier interrupts their whispers. Unbeknownst to them, she had been listening to their entire conversation. “Are you two ready to check out?”

Trevor smiles politely. “Yes, ma’am.” He hands over the two cups of noodles while she quickly grabs another product from the shelf before leading the way to the register. Once behind the counter, she inspects Tatum’s small frame and smiles. “That sure is a pretty coat.”

Tatum beams, coyly grinning as she models her purple winter coat, playing with the drawstrings with her good hand.

“What do you say, Tate?” Trevor prompts with a low voice.

“Oh! Thank you, ma’am--”

“Darlin’? What happened to your arm there?” In the midst of showing off her jacket, the deep discoloration of her wrist was exposed for the clerk to see.

“Oh,” Tatum fixes her eyes to the ground, her voice growing quiet. “I was talking to Daddy about Mommy and picking us up for Thanksgiving, and then--”

“--she accidentally slipped and fell off the wooden deck earlier while she was playing,” finished Trevor. “She gets pretty clumsy.” The clerk narrowed her eyes, glaring at Trevor before training her eyes on Tatum. Noticing the suspicious look on her face, Tatum begins to nod her head, agreeing with her brother’s story.

“Hrmm, well, then,” the clerk gives a sympathetic smile. “Best be careful on that deck next time, hrmm?.” Tatum nervously nods. The attendant turns to Trevor. “That’ll be $1.91,” she sympathetically smiles.

“Oh, ma’am? I thought they were eighty-nine cents a piece,” questions Trevor as he digs into his pockets, pulling out his coins.

“Plus tax--”

“Tax. Of course.” He spills out his pocket of coins, counting out his $1.81. “I’m sorry. I-I guess I don’t have enough,” he bows his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to waste your time, ma’am--”

“Y’know?” she interjects, resting on her elbows to talk closer with the children. “We get a lot of impatient truckers from the interstate, stopping by here. You wouldn’t believe how many times they tell me to keep the change from their transactions because they don’t want to wait for me to count it out for them,” she sarcastically snickers. “Here.” She reaches below the counter, pulling out a dime. “That oughta do the trick,” she grins, scooping the silver coins in her hand.

A flood of relief washes over Trevor as he wraps his arm around Tatum. “Thank you so much, ma’am--”

The clerk nods, winking at the young boy. “There is a hot water spigot next to the coffee burners, but be careful. It’s boiling hot.”

Trevor gives a grateful smile as he turns with his sister to head back to the coffee burns.

“Um… say, what are you two going to eat for dessert?” The young boy turns back, his eyebrows furrowed sorrowfully at the clerk before shrugging his shoulders. “You gotta have dessert on Thanksgiving!” The attendant joyfully smiles as she pulls out the dented can of cranberry sauce. “Listen, I can’t sell this can lookin’ like this, so I have to charge it back to the company in which they will tell me to throw it away. Would either of you be interested in some cranberry sauce?”

Tatum’s eyes light up, fixating on the can. “Can we have some, Trevor?” She tugs on his arm. “Pretty, pretty please?”

With a chuckle and a curt nod from her older brother, the friendly attendant came out from behind the counter with the precious can of cranberry sauce in hand. While Trevor prepared the cup of noodles, the clerk went back into her office, looking for a can opener with no avail, but was able to find a knife, a screwdriver and a hammer. After several innovative attempts to crack open the aluminum can, they were finally able to create a big enough hole for the gelatinous confection to pour out into a bowl.

While Trevor finishes preparing their dinner, the attendant takes Tatum to her warm office. Sitting in her rolling chair next to the heater, she sweetly lifts the little girl to sit in her lap while they adjust a bag of frozen peas onto her tiny bruised wrist. “I know it’s cold, darlin’, but we need that swellin’ to go down.”

“Swelling? Like when your boo-boo gets bigger?”

“That’s right,” the clerk raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Did you know that your body knows when you have a boo-boo? And-and it sends fluids to help make you feel better? That’s what makes it bigger.”

“You’re a smart little cookie, aren’t cha?” The attendant chuckles to herself, wrapping a warm embrace around Tatum. “You just might be a doctor someday, little one.”

“Noodles are ready!” Trevor bounds into the room, taking a seat in a metal folding chair next to his sisters and the convenience store worker. Without missing a beat, the two children dive into their feast, eliciting sweet moans of joy of finally eating food.

“You know what this means, don’t cha?” The clerk interrupts. Both of the children curiously return their attention to the older woman. “You have a new family tradition,” she kindly smiles.

“What’s a family tradition?” Quietly asks Tatum.

The clerk sweetly combs Tatum’s blonde wisps behind her ear. “A family tradition can be anything. It’s doing something special to help you remember something important about the past. It could be eating a special meal to remember a loved one or playing a specific game to remember a fun memory or watching a holiday movie because everyone loves it. The most important part of family tradition is that it brings family together, no matter how big or small.”

“So,” Tatum slurps up a noodle, “what could our tradition be?”

“...but the most important part is the orange zest while the cranberries are boiling. But, I highly recommend juicing them before you zest them. Easy-peasy!”

Tatum plasters a fake smile to appease a very pregnant Sienna Trinh-Aveiro, although the obstetrician is pretty sure she blanked out during the pediatrician's animated retelling of the recipe.

"Orange zest," Tatum nods as she scoops a small helping of the deep red relish onto her plate. "I'll be sure to, um, remember that next time. Would you excuse me?"

With a cordial nod, Tatum saunters through the crowd of the affluent collection of party-goers. Finding solace in a quiet corner, she begins to fidget with the appetizers on her plate, paying close attention to the cranberry sauce. Perfectly cooked with thrilling flavors of tart and citrus, it was garnished with a sprig of mint.

And fucking orange zest.

It didn't come from a convenience store. It wasn't from a can--a damaged metal can that would otherwise be considered garbage. There was no need for a screwdriver let alone a hammer.

Tatum's vision suddenly blurs; quickly blinking her eyelids, she realizes her eyes are flooding with tears. Setting down the exquisite china, she quickly surveys the room, planning her escape. Politely nodding at her colleagues and hospital investors, she stops to specifically thank Caroline Bloom for a lovely evening before retrieving her coat.

"Leaving so soon, Dr. Erikson?"

She holds up her pager, toggling it in between her slender fingers. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls," she fibs.

"Of course," Caroline embraces Tatum, placing chaste kisses on her cheeks. “Make us proud--as usual,” she chuckles, quickly turning back to entertaining her guests. Tatum collects her jacket and hurries out the door to head back to her loft.

After a long warm shower, Tatum cinches her bath towel around her body before retreating to her bedroom. She grabs her phone, noting that she had not received any new messages or phone calls. She considers contacting Ethan, scrolling to his name, but she knows impromptu ethics committee meetings can take several hours. And knowing him, he will want to manage the proceedings.

She tosses her phone back onto her bed, turning to her walk-in closet. She slowly strolls by her rows of clothes, dragging her fingertips across the various fabrics and textures until she comes to his small part of her closet. She leans in, nuzzling her nose into his clothes as she breathes in the scent. Trevor. Her hands tremble as it crosses over his combat uniform, over the embroidered name Erikson. Tears fill her eyes, her heart swelling with pride as she stops to admire his green dress uniform, tinkering with the flashy buttons and awards.

Tatum grabs one of his heather gray ‘Army’ shirts, and quickly slips the oversized fabric across her body. Carelessly pulling her damp, blonde tresses through the neck of the shirt, she hugs the material close to her heart. Ready to say goodnight to the emotionally-charged day, she turns off the lights before crawling under her weighted, ruffle duvet. Relaxing into her sea of pillows, the natural moonlight illuminates the framed picture on her bedside table: a photo of her and Trevor at her white coat ceremony at Johns Hopkins. A crooked smile gently fixes to her face, remembering that day so clearly: it was the first day her family came together; it was the first day Trevor met Ethan.

As her eyes flutter close, there’s a sudden pounding on her front door. Grabbing her phone, she notices it’s after ten; but again, there were no missed calls or messages. With her heart beginning to race, she slips on a pair of her boyfriend’s sweat pants before padding quietly to the front door. As soon as she peers through the peephole, a big grin crawls across her face. With her nerves relaxing, she unlocks the door, swinging it wide open to reveal the one person that could make the day end perfectly. Tatum playfully leans against the door, placing a hand on her hip. She jokingly looks at her wrist as if she’s looking at a watch.

“What?” Ethan cheekily smiles, shrugging his shoulders. With his tie undone and the top two buttons of his oxford unbuttoned, he holds out a brown grocery bag.

Trying to hide her smile, Tatum eagerly steals the paper bag. Peeking inside, she notices instantly the content: two cups of ramen noodles and a can of cranberry sauce. She abruptly looks back up at Ethan, tears gathering in her eyes.

Ethan quickly grabs Tatum’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. She buries herself into his shoulder, her breath hitching in her chest. “Hey, hey--” he whispers, pressing his lips against her tousled waves. “Shhh, none of that,” he chuckles to himself, massaging intimate circles against her back. “You know it’s family tradition.”

Tatum looks up, staring deeply into Ethan’s gentle eyes. Wiping away her tears, she begins to titter, nodding in agreement. He's right.

It is tradition.

And Ethan is her family. He always will be.

----------

TAGS (please let me know if you'd like to added/moved/removed)

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OPH: @openheartfanfics @thegreentwin

[vintageandmain]

(via Birks Silver Plate Cordial Goblets Set of 4 Primrose Plate | Etsy)

[failedintsave]

🥶 for any couple you please! I'm terrible at picking ships for other people to write, lol (Gointothevvater)

[Send me an emoji and I'll write a drabble]

Picking a ship probably took longer than writing this haha. I didn't know what canon character ship you'd prefer so I tried my hand at some Ceelie x Pickles, hope you don't mind me borrowing your OC again, I adore her!

🥶- Cold

The multicolored swirl of oil skimmed the surface of gray puddles gathered in the gutter, dirty runoff washing from London's busy roadways even as the rain finally let up. Exhaust and petrichor filled the air outside the sold-out Hammersmith Odeon, but Pickles smothered the scent of either, lighting up another in a series of cigarettes and trying not to let the weather completely ruin the brand new red boots he wore. He hopped to the side, cursing as a bus pulled away from the curb, splashing filthy water onto the sidewalk next to him.

Ahead, laughter echoed off the concrete curve of the overpass as St. Cecilia rounded a corner, the sound like silver striking crystal stemware. Readjusting the hood of his sweatshirt to shield what was left of his melting hairspray, Pickles quickened his pace to catch her. He'd grabbed the jacket off the floor thinking it was his, but the length of the sleeves and the smell of perfume as he slipped it on told him otherwise.

"Tell me again why we couldn't jest get drunk in tha'hotel room? Why're ya draggin' me out in this creap?" He groused, turning sideways to dodge a man hustling past with an umbrella.

Snakes n Barrels' first global tour had taken them to a myriad of distant locales; from Tokyo to Toronto, Auckland to Amsterdam, they'd performed in every corner of the globe and burned down the house at every stop. Once, quite literally. He wasn't sure New Orleans would be hosting them again soon, but it had been one hell of a show and an even better after party. The French Quarter had certainly seen bigger disasters.

"Because," St. Cecilia called, spinning around to walk backwards so she could catch his eye. "I want a proper pint while we're here, and so should you!"

Truth be told, she always had his eye, from the first moment he'd seen her. Her honey brown gaze sparkled with amusement under shaggy, blonde bangs made slightly frizzy by the humidity. A coquettish grin curled lips painted purple, not by the late November chill, but with her favored lipstick. Pickles could almost feel their soft press on his palm, transferring the vibrant shade to his skin for the thousandth time before curtain call. It was fast becoming one of his favorite colors, second only to the lighter version that graced Ceelie's lips after he'd kissed most of it off.

She led him a few blocks further, through lingering mist and past shop fronts just beginning to adorn their windows for the Christmas season, stopping finally at a heavy wooden door. The lower half of the building was painted cream and trimmed in a deep green, the red brick of its upper story streaked with sooty marks and capped with decorative stone balusters. Square panes of lead glass flanked the door, obscuring the interior but for a warm yellow glow within. No signage named the building a pub but there was a murmur of voices and laughter beyond the walls.

"This should do." 

"Thank Christ, I'm freezin' my nuts off." Pickles tugged at the hem of his hoodie, trying to cover his partially exposed midriff. He crowded in behind her as she reached for the door handle.

Rather than open it, St. Cecilia turned and placed her back against the wood, effectively blocking the entrance and quirking one dark brow at him.

"I thought the winters were terrible cold where you're from? Shouldn't you be used to it?"

"Jest cuz it's familiar don't mean I gahtta like it." He reached past her to open the door but she caught his hand, her slim fingers remarkably warm as she held his frozen digits.

"You poor thing. Alright, a quick round, then back in time to warm up." She pressed her lips to his fingertips, a mischievous sparkle glinting in her eyes as she gave one a tiny kitten lick. "The boys should be ready for soundcheck by the time we've finished, yeah?"

Pickles grinned crookedly in return. "Oh, I dunno. Might take me a while ta' thaw out after this lil' adventure."

"Not like we haven't made them wait before." Ceelie purred, dragging him inside by the hoodie's drawstrings. Even in a blizzard, that tone would always make Pickles melt.

[more-than-a-princess]

@awesomeuchuu​ asked:  “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.” From Eichi. :D I thought, why not have the two rich kids meet? (Thank you for the follow-back!)

First Impressions starters - Still Accepting!

She'd been looking over an array of orchids (not inspecting. That was left to a woman in her late fifties just a few meters away. Snugly fit into a Chanel tweed suit, she'd been eyeing the flowers out of one eye and Sonia with the other) when she'd heard a male voice address her. Not by name, strangely enough: even if he was a stranger, there was a certain gravity that came from being 1. A foreigner and 2. royalty that ensured that Japanese upperclass society knew her in some capacity: a cousin had attended In Utero School, a family friend had met King Alexandre of Novoselic on his last royal visit to Tokyo, etc. But he'd addressed her...simply. Not by name, not even by title: just someone he'd wanted to meet.

And truth be told, Sonia Nevermind was relieved. She'd accepted the invitation by one Mrs. Furukawa to attend her annual Garden Party out of the behest of her mother. The wife of a tech and innovation mogul, Queen Valentina only approved of Mrs. Furukawa because her husband had transformed the family enterprise from transport to tech before the tech boom and she herself was distantly descended from the Imperial Family, which ensured that a lone princess or sister of the current Emperor would discreetly make her appearance before tastefully departing well before everyone got too drunk. Mrs. Furukawa, however, threw every ounce of pride not in her husband's multi-billion yen business but her blue blood lineage, and therefore only invited guests from the right families: old money rich with wealth transcending at least three generations and wealthy foreigners from nations she could respect, like anywhere in Western Europe. Royalty, naturally, was a given, and therefore as soon as Sonia had stepped out of her car in a tasteful Miu Miu dress (not too short, no logos), Mrs. Furukawa had descended upon her, greeting her as if she were her own nation's royalty.

Sonia, careful not to let her face show how overwhelmed she was even as a teenage girl (and with plenty to be overwhelmed about), had made her niceties before retreating to the gardens with a glass of champagne (discreetly taken from a tray) and a small bit of conversation with the only other person she knew beyond their family name, lineage, and general net worth, Byakuya Togami (also discreetly performed, mostly on his part: he'd always found the Ultimate Princess to have poor taste, something she never quite corrected him on. In fact, she wore it as a badge of pride). Now, she'd had champagne and three petit fours to distract her before the blond boy had approached and she was grateful he'd had. After all, the woman in the too-small Chanel suit now perked up her ears as if she were a dog listening to the quietest of whistles. It wasn't that Sonia wanted to be cynical, but she'd attended enough galas, enough balls, enough garden parties to know the look: she had someone, likely her own offspring, that the Princess of Novoselic simply must meet for purposes of business, potential marriage, or in the best of circumstances, both.

Yes, Sonia was more than eager to speak with someone else under the age of twenty and seemingly not keen to discuss business. Of any nature.

"You have?" She asked brightly, turning to him with a smile. Conversation, naturally, was better than any meticulously tended flowers on display. She set her empty plate and glass on a nearby silver tray, set out for the used stemware and dishes to go, in order to give him her full attention. He seemed close to her in age, if she had to judge by appearances, with a rather gentle expression. "Well then, this garden party is quite fortuitous for you! My name is Sonia Nevermind." Something, even if he hadn't mentioned it, he likely knew already. But at least it set the precedent that she did not want to be called by her title if she could help it.

"May I know your name too?"

[twowk]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Rare Zodax Metal Aperitif Glasses.

[noonachronicles]

The Malebranche Pt. 1

Im Changkyun/I.M. X Reader & Lee Jooheon X Reader

Word count: 9.4k

Warnings: There is cursing. It’s a story about demons so...probably a little dark in theme. This is demon smut. I’m not being flippant or dramatic. It’s literally smut with demons. This is 18+. I’m not your mom and I’m not the fan fiction police. So just don’t have unprotected sex and don’t fuck demons. There’s also some edging. 

Genre: Demon AU. Modern Fantasy. Sorta Soulmate AU

A/N: This is for @nemesyis​. You probably just wanted some porn without plot but if you haven’t noticed... I’m incapable. Here is some porn with a light sprinkling of plot for flavor instead. 

‘The Path to Paradise Begins in Hell’ - Dante Alighieri

The Eighth Circle was a beautiful burlesque club. It was expected by many to be a front for a brothel or a drug ring but there had never been any proof of it even after several raids and countless undercover investigations. Everyone just assumed that something illegal was happening there, and no one could blame them. It was a cesspool of sin and debauchery.

The club was located just outside of the city in a three story Victorian style mansion. The inside had been completely gutted and renovated by the owners but the outside stayed essentially the same. Only a new layer of paint had been applied. Wine red paneling, black trim, and gold accents. Gothic Barbies dream house.

Inside there was a large foyer with blood red carpets and gold walls. The ceiling was covered in a renaissance style painting. Though the art was not light and angelic like one might have expected. It was dark. It demons and sin. It was the inferno. Beautifully done, but terrifying if you looked too long or too closely. The foyer broke away into three different theatre style rooms. The Red Room, The Purple Room, and The White Room.

The Red Room was the most popular room, it was the most sinful of the three. Named appropriately for it’s color scheme. Red furniture, red floor, red walls, red velvet panels draped overhead. The only things that weren’t red were the crystal chandeliers. Those were consistent through every room in the house. The Red Room experience stood in the center of the four corners. Night club, burlesque club, strip club, and sex club. Consent was the only rule in The Red Room.

The Purple Room offered a slightly more cabaret atmosphere. Mostly purple everything with silver accents here and there. The performances were rambunctious and inclusive. Despite the dark aesthetic it was a classic good time. Usually The Purple Room housed bachelorette parties and birthdays. Large groups of women just looking for a memorable night out.

The White Room, the third of the triplets, was mostly white with accents of gold. It was the most elegant room The Eighth Circle had to offer. Sheer white fabrics hung from the ceiling along with gold and crystal chandeliers. The floor was a bright white marble laced with rivers of gold striping. The couches and chairs were white velvet cushions on gold framing. Women, scantily clad in white lingerie, carried gold trays filled with champagne in crystal stemware. The White Room was mostly for politicians and businessmen that would bring in out-of-towners to impress and seduce them into working with them. Occasionally vanilla couples would partake in The White Room as well if they were trying to spice up a fading love life. Typically if it worked the couples could be found in The Red Room within a week.

The owners of The Eighth Circle were the Malebranche Brothers. Sometimes they were referred to as the Malebranche Twins. Though you’d seen them before in town and couldn’t imagine they were at all related. Most people, however, just called them the Demon Twins.

You would have normally suspected that particular nickname had to do with all of the references to Dante's Inferno that surrounded them whether intentionally or unintentionally. You found it much more likely that the people thought the brothers had a hint of evil in them and less likely that they would have picked up on the literary references. It wasn’t that you thought everyone in town was an illiterate moron. You’d lived in this town your whole life. You knew that everyone in town was an illiterate moron.

The brothers, if that’s even what they were, were young. In appearance they seemed about your age but there was something about their mannerisms that made them seem much older. It’s part of what attracted you to them. They were unlike every other bachelor in this town. It was like they were from somewhere else entirely. A bigger city was your only guess. They had a sense of class and elegance that made them entirely desirable. Unfortunately they weren’t only desirable to you. Every woman and several of the men in town flung themselves desperately at the pair every chance they got. So while you continued to fantasize about them, you knew that’s what they would remain, a fantasy.

From what you knew of them Jooheon was the older of the two brothers but not by much. He was known for his unbelievably plush lips and unmistakable dimples. His hair color usually changed with the seasons but you always thought he looked best with a darker tone. He was also said to be the kinder of the two. He had a pleasantness that his brother seemed to lack, which was probably why he was the one known to take care of the business side of The Eighth Circle.

His brother was Changkyun. He’d been nicknamed the Evil Twin by the people in town. Mostly due to the stern, unimpressed look of his lips when his face was resting. On occasion you’d seen him out to lunch or in a shop with his brother and thought he’d seemed quite playful and even childish. He didn’t scare you too much.

Though you knew Jooheon was meant to be the kinder of the two brothers you would never forget the first time you’d seen them. You were shopping in the city. Jooheon had just stepped out of the car and was headed into a restaurant when he’d turned in your direction, looking just over his shoulder, and his eyes met yours. It was terrifying, just the way it felt, like in that instant he was inside of you.

It was as if he knew every one of your thoughts, every desire. There was just something about him. Lust incarnate with the way your attraction to him tugged at you like there was rope around your waist whenever he was nearby and he held the opposite end firmly in his grasp.    

In that sense you felt lucky that they were a deviant desire and nothing more. Certainly you wouldn’t be able to handle either one of them.

-

Changkyun stood on the third floor balcony that overlooked The Red Room. He was leaning over the banister, soaking in the immoral energies of the night's patrons. A wicked grin grew across his lips as he watched hands grasping flesh. Lips on lips. Very little attention made to who was partaking in who. He loved his work.

“Honey.” he said as his brother moved behind him, not bothering to turn his attention from the activities below.

“Kyun.” Jooheon said leaning against the bannister beside him.

“How are things running?”

“Smooth as ever. Smoother even. Busy for a Wednesday.” Jooheon shrugged, sipping from his glass of bourbon.

“Lucky for us, brother, sin never takes a day off.” Changkyun laughed and snatched the liquor from his brother's hand to take a drink.

Jooheon grew silent, closing his eyes. Changkyun looked over just as they snapped back open to show pitch black orbs. He inhaled deeply, his hand gripping the wooden banister so tightly his knuckles grew white with strain. When he exhaled his eyes lightened to their normal brown.

“She’s here.” he gulped.

Changkyun’s eyebrow perked with mild interest, “Your little townie girlfriend?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Jooheon glared.

“Where is she? No! Wait!” he chuckled enthusiastically, “Let’s play a game.”

Jooheon shook his head, “I don’t want to play with you. You cheat and you’re mean.”

“Don’t be such a fucking infant.” Changkyun snapped, but his smile had returned in the same blink, “Pleeease, Honey. You never play with me. I’m bored.”

He sighed in quick defeat, prefering to avoid another of his brother's temper tantrums, knowing that Changkyun could always make things worse if he was denied what he wanted.  “What’s the game?”

“If I can figure out who she is on my own, without any hints from you, I get to fuck her.” Jooheon’s jaw clenched, but his brother wasn’t done yet. “I get to fuck her...first.”

“Changkyun.” he growled between tight lips.

His brother only laughed, “Oh please! Please, brother! Who knows if I’ll even be able to figure it out?”

“No.”

“What if I make it a little harder for myself?” he asked, “I only get three guesses.”

Jooheon rolled his eyes knowing full well Changkyun was not going to let it go until he agreed to play. “Fine. Three guesses. No hints.”

“Deal.” Changkyun grinned and held out his hand.

Jooheon grabbed his brother's hand and in an instant they were wrapped in a bind of fire to seal the deal. Jooheon could see the flames dancing in his brothers glistening black eyes, he already felt defeated. His brother always got everything he wanted. Why should she be any different?

After the deal was sealed Changkyun clapped his palms together. “Let’s begin! ONWARD! To the foyer!”

-

You stood at the bar in the foyer suppressing a yawn. Requesting a date on a Wednesday night meant this guy had already been docked points in your book. Being late meant he’d lost even more. Mostly you just hoped he wasn’t going to stand you up. You chewed on the stem that had been attached to the cherry that came with your drink and eyed yourself through the mirror behind the bar.

You looked so good tonight considering the speed with which you had to get ready between getting home from work and the original meet up time. Your dress was stark white and tight against your curves. The hem sat against the tops of  your thighs, not even thinking about nearing your knees. The neck was a deeper v than you normally wore but the white lace sleeves made it seem more classy than slutty, so you thought anyway.

Your blind date was forty minutes late and you had to decide between getting another drink or calling it a night. You lifted your hand to grab the attention of the bartender, ready to close your tab and giving this date a time of death but then you felt it. A tightening in your stomach, you crossed one red stiletto covered foot over the other, squeezing your thighs together and tried to keep breathing. You didn’t know how you knew it was him, you just knew he was somewhere nearby. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt it.

“Did you need something?” the bartender asked. “Refill?”

You shook your head and after a slightly put out look she turned and went to the next guest. Turning around you leaned your back against the bar and searched the room. It didn’t take long before you saw him. Not your date. Jooheon. Standing at the top of the stairs with his brother at his side.

Changkyun was saying something energetically as he looked over the crowd of club attendees. With a gulp you looked Jooheon over. His hair was bright red tonight, the last time you saw him it was blonde, and pushed back off of his forehead. You could see the dip in his cheek from his dimple from where you were, that's how deep it was, and the double slit in his eyebrow.

You bit your bottom lip as they made their way down the stairs, your heart was racing. He’d missed a few buttons on the black silk shirt he was wearing, intentionally you assumed, and you were mesmerized by the thin silver chain around his neck with its pendant that bounced against his bare chest. Your gaze had just made it to the holy grail, a golden snake belt buckle and a pair of tight black, leather pants that had your mouth a confused mixture of desert dry and waterfall of drool.  

That was when you heard, “Did it hurt?”

Moving your focus you met your date, Kihyun, with the single red rose he said he was bringing. “Huh?”

“When you fell from heaven?” he grinned.

Oh. No. You faked your very best chuckle. “That’s cute.”

“I’m Kihyun.”

You lifted the rose he’d handed you, “I’d gathered.”

“I reserved a table in The White Room. People say it’s hard to get a reservation here but honestly I found it easy. I always get into wherever I want probably because-” he continued to brag, not even humbly, but you had stopped listening anyway.

With every step The Twins moved closer. They walked right past you as if in slow motion, the sleeve of Jooheon’s black blazer brushed the back of your hand and you nearly lost your breath completely. Wishful thinking had you believing he’d even looked at you, however briefly. He hadn’t even gotten two steps away and you’d already imagined about four different ways he could take you right then and there. You could probably kill someone if it meant running your hands through his hair, kissing that dimple, knowing that man. Honestly you couldn’t help but to think to yourself that you might have to just sleep with Kihyun tonight even if things didn’t go well because you were pretty sure you were in heat. And why should you have to suffer through the night just because this guy hadn’t yet had the decency to apologize for being an hour late.

“Y/n?” he said, placing his hand gently on your forearm.

You jumped slightly, you were so incredibly wound up. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to go to our seats now.”

“Yeah, let’s go...” You said with one last longing look over at The Twins.

-

While you were getting comfortable with Kihyun in The White Room, Jooheon was following Changkyun around on his mission through The Eighth Circle. First the foyer, where he would look at every guest and then back at Jooheon to search his face for some sort of slip up. Then The Red Room where he moved around the room in his charismatic way, gently touching guests on their hips or arms, asking them if they were having a good time and trying to read their energy. By the time they stepped out of The Purple Room he’d wasted two of his guesses. Changkyun was furious and Jooheon was feeling hopeful. Only one more wrong guess from his counterpart and he was free to pursue you.

“Give me a fourth guess.” Changkyun huffed, “One for each room and the foyer. It’s only fair.”

“What’s fair is you playing by the rules we’ve already set.” Jooheon declined the request, “One more guess.”

He hoped that in his frustration Changkyun would get reckless with his last guess. Guess on a whim, be wrong, game over. When they stepped into The White Room it was hard for Jooheon to not look directly at you. He also didn’t want to completely avoid you either, as Changkyun would be looking for that as well. His hands were shaking as he made it to the bar and requested a drink to steady his nerves.

Changkyun sighed deeply looking over the room. “Well, she’s definitely in here.”

“What makes you think that?” Jooheon asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“If you were vibrating any harder, every woman in this room would cum in an instant.” He grinned.

Jooheon shrugged, trying to remain casual. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure. You have one guess left.”

“Tiny or tall. Big or small.” Changkyun hummed to himself, “Blonde or Brunette. Virgin or...slut.”

“Are you and your horrid rhyming skills done yet?” Jooheon asked, “Shows about to start. Maybe you’d like to take a break from your boring little game.”

Ignoring Jooheon, Changkyun had a thought. “Maybe she’s neither virgin nor whore. Maybe, maybe she’s part innocence and part evil. You wouldn’t be attracted to anyone too good, that’s bland. But she couldn’t be too evil either or it would annoy you. You need someone just right. A Goldilocks.”

“What are you talking about?” Jooheon sighed. “How could you know what any of these women are like? I’ve never even met her. I don’t know her personality. There’s no way you could.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, dear brother.” Changkyun grinned and placed two fingers against his lips as he scanned the room. “Eenie meenie...miny moe.”

Slowly he pointed his two fingers out like a gun and took aim with you in his crosshairs. His eyes lit up and his thumb dropped as he released a pop from his lips.

“Found her.” He blew a gust of breath on the barrel of his finger gun and looked over at Jooheon with a wink. “Dressed like an absolute angel but there is... nothing very nice inside of her.”

Jooheon swallowed the lump in his throat. “Fine. Congratulations, you won your dumb little game. Please, don’t do this.”

“What’s the point of winning if you don’t get your reward?” He asked and sneered over at Jooheon who was pouting, “Oh good God. Stop acting like you’re in love with her or something, you don’t even know her. It’s pathetic.”

“If she says no to your advances…”

“Then of course nothing will happen,” Changkyun scoffed, “I’m not a fucking monster.”

“Guess that depends on who you ask.” Jooheon muttered.

“Well, this was fun but I think it’s time to collect my winnings.” Changkyun looked over at Jooheon curiously, “Are you going to watch?”

Jooheon rolled his eyes and finished off his drunk, “Go fuck yourself, brother.”

“Oh but I won’t have to!”  Changkyun laughed to himself as he watched Jooheon storm out of the room.

-

Kihyun had gotten you a new drink before the two of you took your seats in the front row booth he’d reserved for your date. However he’d also talked so much, about himself, that your drink was already down to the ice cubes. You half listened to him as he described in detail what his average work day looked like and half watched the runoff of your melting ice. Taking a sip every time there was enough collected at the bottom of the cup to warrant taking a sip. What felt like three hours, but was only about twenty minutes passed before he finally looked at his watch.  

“Wow, I can’t believe how fast time is flying.” He said with a smile.

“Who knew investment banking was so fascinating.” you offered with mediocre enthusiasm.

“I think they’re really about to get started soon. Would you like me to refill your drink again beforehand?” he asked.

You nodded gratefully, “That would be amazing, thank you.”

“Okay, but last one.” He laughed sliding out of the booth. “No one likes a girl that can’t keep her wits about her.”

Suppressing an eyeroll that hard nearly gave you an instant migraine. The second his back was turned you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the friend that had set you up on this blind date to let her know she was now your ex-friend. You cleared out a few of your awaiting notifications and then before you could even stop yourself your jaw dropped in the biggest yawn you’d ever experienced in your life.

“A yawn that big does not bode well for my business.”

If Changkyun was any other man in the world you assumed you would probably despise him based on his tacky fashion sense alone. Tonight he was wearing a silk, snake print shirt under a purple, velvet blazer. That alone would have been enough to turn you away from any other man, then on top of that his belt buckle was a massive, eye catching, howling wolf's head. Infact, rather than being repulsed by the outfit you found yourself staring quite unabashed as he stood in front of you. His pierced eyebrow was raised as he looked you over, and you noticed the flash of silver on his tongue as it moved across his bottom lip.  

In your head you thought of at least ten clever, sexy comebacks to give him. Ultimately, after too long, all you gave him in reply was, “Huh?”

He snickered to himself, knowing full well he’d already ruffled your feathers and he was only just warming up. “If you’re not having a good time, I want you to know I will make it my personal mission to make sure that you do.”

Shaking your head you blushed, “It’s not...The club is great. Beautiful. Entertaining beyond comparison.”

His eyes darted over to the bar, lingered on Kihyun’s back for a moment, and then went back to you, “Oh no, it’s not...your date? Please tell me you’re not here, in that dress, with someone who is yawn worthy boring.”

Your mouth opened and then you closed it slowly into a smile as Kihyun came back to the table. He handed you your refreshed drink and took his seat in the booth before realizing Changkyun was standing beside your table.

“Hi...can we help you?” he asked, clearly confused.

“How rude of me…” Changkyun held out his hand and Kihyun accepted it. “I’m Changkyun. This is my club. Well, half of it anyway.”

“Do you often walk around to make sure people are having a good time?” Kihyun asked.

“Ahh.” Changkyun smirked, “Only when I see a truly beautiful woman in one of my seats.”

“Yes, well, y/n is a stunning specimen.” Kihyun smiled tightly, “I’d thank you for the wonderful time we’ve been having, but the conversation has been all us. The chemistry...spectacular.”

You could see the look in Changkyun’s eye, the one that said he had something witty waiting on that sharp tongue, but the lights began to dim. “Can I sit with you? Just for the first performance? I’d hate to be in anyone’s way.”

“I don’t think-”

“Of course.”

You and Kihyun spoke together, but ultimately you scooted into the booth further and allowed Changkyun to slip in beside you as the music began and that was the end of the discussion. The room went dark and a bright white spotlight hit the stage where the white velvet curtains parted to show the stage. An old, big jazz band song started to play and you watched wide eyed as a huge silver ring descended from the ceiling and sitting on the bottom arc of the circle was a scantily clad woman. You watched fascinated as she began moving around the ring. Hanging, dangling, contorting her body all around the thin bar.

Taking just a moment to break your gaze away from the stage, you grabbed your drink to take a sip. Your eyes caught Changkyun’s hand, resting on the top of the table, his fingers thrumming against the white table cloth. Silver bands on two of his fingers and black nail polish on three. Placing your glass down on the table, it took maximum efforts not to reach for his hand.

They looked so long and soft. You wanted to feel them and feel them on you. You realized that this might be the closest you ever got to one of the brothers, so you let your eyes wander. Over his hands, over his wrist with the thin silver bracelet that dangled from it, over his body. The rise and fall of his smooth chest, that you could see clearly from the way his shirt rested open loosely. He was leaning back against the booth and his neck looked so long you gulped. His profile was flawless, jaw sharp, chin perfectly curved, nose...god, his nose. There was a smirk across his lips when he turned his face. His eyes locked with yours, refusing to let you go, not that you’d have looked away anyway.

Changkyun lifted his hand to your face, dragging his fingers down your jaw before holding your chin between his fingers. You felt dazed in a way you had never felt before. You leaned towards him, you were nearly there, lips ready to press against the ones that waited there for you. Then you blinked. Just a blink and you were sitting back in the booth, the lights coming up from the end of the performance. Kihyun was applauding enthusiastically and Changkyun was slipping out of the booth.  

“Wait!” you said suddenly. Changkyun turned to look back at you. “Do you...have to leave so soon?”

“Y/n,” Kihyun reached out and placed his hand on your knee, “I’m sure he’s a busy man with a lot to do. Let’s not bother him further. We can go get dinner.”

“Didn’t you say it was your personal mission to make sure I had a good time?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” he grinned, “I suppose I could spend a while longer with you.”

“...that’s really not necessary.” Kihyun said quietly, but it was pretty clear he was quickly becoming the third wheel on this date.

You bit your lip as Changkyun sat back down next to you. Kihyun watched flabbergasted for several minutes as the two of you flirted right in front of him before he got up with a huff and took off. You felt a little bad but not enough that you would have gone back in time to change anything.

Changkyun, one of the widely sought after demon twins, had his arm over your shoulder and all of his attention focused on you. You pinched yourself several times until you flinched because it just didn’t seem real.

After a few more performances you mentioned needing to think about calling a cab to go home. Changkyun offered sweetly to take you home and you jumped at the chance. This night started out as such a flop and had turned into a fantasy.

“Stay here.” Changkyun said, letting his hand drag over your hip. He’d walked you out of The White Room following the last performance, and into the busy foyer. “I’ll call for the car.”

You inhaled deeply and let out a relaxing sigh. Being around Changkyun had you so tense, so unbelievably aroused. The knot in your gut was screaming for release, and though you didn’t want to be presumptuous you thought you might actually have a chance with him tonight. A big part of you wished you’d caught Jooheon’s eye, but getting to be with either of the twins was more than you could have hoped for yourself.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Your blood prickled as Jooheon stepped next to you, his hands in his pockets.

“I..heh...um.” you shook with nerves.

Jooheon just smiled, his dimple digging deeper into his cheek. You wanted to swim in it.

Looking over at you completely he smiled kindly, “Be careful on your way home tonight. We’d like to have you back here again soon.”

“Wow.” You gasped.

You’d never seen him up close before, and honestly you weren’t ready for it. Changkyun was something. Jooheon was something else completely. His eyes were dark but glistened like galaxies. His lips were so...wet. Soft, plush clouds. Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest you were certain it was about to crash all the way through.

“What?” He asked quietly, like a whisper, just for you.

“It’s just..you’re breathtaking.” You’d be embarrassed about saying it later on when you remembered but for now it just had to be said.

He blushed at the compliment. “I could say the same for you.”

There was just something about him. Something inside you was so drawn to something in him. You thought about what it would feel like to just be held by him. He looked like the definition of comfort.

“Y/n.” Both of you turned to see Changkyun, standing in the doorway looking, in contrast, like the definition of devious. “We’re all set, are you ready?”

“Have fun.” Jooheon bowed out and you watched as he turned and left.

“Yeah, ready.” You smiled at Changkyun and he led you to the car waiting outside.

You slid over the black leather of the backseat and Changkyun slid in after. After you gave the driver your address the two of you sat quietly together. Several blocks passed by the window before Changkyun turned to you.

“You prefer my brother.”

“What?” You asked as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes thinking endlessly about Jooheon and his impossible dimple and his unstoppable lips.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings.” He assured you.

You sighed, “I don’t have a preference, it’s only that I’d noticed him first.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why?” Your whole mood dropped.

“It’s just Jooheon is deeply interested in someone right now.”

“Oh…” you didn’t know why it stung so badly, you should have already known someone like him would have someone.

“She was there tonight at the club. Absolutely stunning young woman.”

“That’s so nice...for them.” You wished he’d stop talking about it already.

“It is, isn't it? Then there’s two poor, lonely idiots like us. Right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed lightly, “Poor, lonely idiot...that’s definitely me.”

Changkyun looked down at his lap and sighed, “Well, unfortunately I can’t get you what you want, but I can give you second best if you’re willing to settle.”

“What?” You asked in genuine disbelief. “You...would be interested in someone like me?”

“Not someone like you.” He corrected. “I’m interested in you.”

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t mean to sound...so surprised. It’s just, I find it so very hard to believe someone as handsome as you would be interested in me.”

“Why do you think I spent my whole night with you?” He chuckled.

“Honestly? Pity.”

“Not at all. Not even a little bit.” He looked over at you and smirked, “I spent my night with you in hopes of getting a kiss.”

You practically snorted in shock. “What?”

“Something small. Just to taste you.”

“Are you serious?”

He shrugged, “Only if you wanted it too. ...but since I’m not Jooheon.”

It would have been stupid to waste even another second so you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You could taste how smug he was. The tip of his tongue swiped at your lips and you opened your mouth to him without hesitation. His tongue was soft and slick with the exception of the little metal ball that massaged your tongue.

You moaned into his mouth while his hands roamed over your body. He’d turned his body to yours, his fingers slipping up the thin fabric of your dress until his hand was your hip and the skirt was pulled all the way up to your stomach. You were a panting, breathless mess and his hands were only urging you further.  

You pressed your palm against his chest, “Changkyun…while this is nice and I desperately want more...your driver is like right there.”

“Who?” He said looking towards the front seat and then back to you, “Minhyuk?”

“Yeah…” you nodded, “He’s probably already heard everything I doubt he wants to see it too.”

“Don’t worry. He’s deaf, and blind...and mute.”

“Your driver is deaf and blind?” You smirked.

“Sure he is.” He leaned in and sucked the skin of your neck until you whimpered . “Isn’t that right, Minhyuk?”

When you looked over you saw Minhyuk's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror and then back to the road.

“See, and mute. Like I said.” he slipped his hand between your thighs, fingers grazing your wrecked panties. “Now tell the truth, since your soaked pussy already has. You kind of want him to watch.”

You shook your head, “I don’t care about that. I just...It’s you. I really want you.”

A fire flickered in his eyes and his chest puffed up enthusiastically, “You do?”

“Well...yeah.” you laughed, brushing his cheek with your hand.

“Then you should have me.” His hand pulled gently on your hip.

The pull wasn’t aggressive, only suggestive, until you were throwing your leg over his lap, and sitting on top of him. As the car moved through the streets the backseat filled with the sounds smacking lips and desperate, lustful moans. His hands spread out over your ass and he brought your hips into his. The size of the bulge you felt between your thighs was more than you could have expected. Your eyes rolled back while your hips rolled forward in a needy attempt at getting the friction you hadn’t realized you were missing out on.

Changkyun sat smug beneath you, enjoying the frenzied way that you thrusted against him. Your teeth dug into his lips. It was as if you’d lost all control. Your animalistic need for him was outweighing any desire you had to preserve an image of a respectable woman. Then you were close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. All you needed was maybe ten more seconds with his bulge. And then it was gone. With a surprising amount of strength he plucked you from his lap and you were back on the seat, stunned into silence.

“It seems we’re here.” Changkyun said calmly as he straightened out his shirt and jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“I..umm.” you straightened your skirt down your trembling legs. “Well… thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“I should thank you for the ride.” He laughed and then he asked in a slightly condescending tone, “You didn’t expect me to go in with you did you?”

Too embarrassed to even look at him, you shook your head and opened the door, “Of course not. Uhm, bye.”

You slipped out of the car and began the shameful walk inside. You heard the door shut and were waiting for the car to drive off when you heard Changkyun call out to you.

“Why would I be expected to come inside when you didn’t even ask nicely?”

Turning around you smiled at the sight of him standing beside the waiting car, looking proud of himself for fooling you.

“Changkyun… would you like to join me inside?”

With his hands in his pockets he walked over slowly. Casually, taking in the outside view of your apartment building, until you were standing chest to chest. Leaning down he whispered against your ear, “I would love to come inside of you. Oop, I meant with you.”

Without even asking your brain permission, your hips pushed forward until they were pressed against his. “I-uh…”

“Go on…” he prompted. “Tell the truth. Tell me again what you want.”

He was so close you couldn’t miss the opportunity to taste him again. Kissing softly along his jaw until you met his ear you whispered, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?”

You blushed and shook your head, “Just you.”

“Come on, y/n.” He grinned, “I know how filthy you can get. I just watched you hump me relentlessly in the backseat of my car. Stop playing coy and tell me what it is that you want.”

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs.”

He inhaled sharply and stepped back with a pleased smile, “Wonderful. Lead the way.”  

-

Somewhere between your initial excitement outside of the apartment building and the ride up the elevator you remembered that your apartment was a mess. Usually your home had that typical ‘lived in’ feel to it, but it wasn’t a pigsty. However after the hurricane you had become in your attempt to get ready for your date it was a sloppy disaster. You tried to talk  Changkyun into waiting out in the hall while you cleaned up but, too amused by your panic, he refused.

“May I have a look around?” Changkyun asked politely as you hurriedly picked up loose clothes from the floor.

“Sure...it’s messy. Obviously.” You warned, “I hadn’t planned on having anyone up.”

“Not even your date?” He called curiously from the living room as he surveyed your belongings.

You let out a quiet sigh as you considered how to answer him. Shaking your own head in disbelief you said, “I don’t typically do this kind of thing. You know, just… invite people home on the first date.”

Changkyun laughed heartily from the doorway of your bedroom and it made you jump. You hadn’t realized he was right there. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit. In fact I prefer your filthy, slutty honesty.”

Between the suggestive tone of his words and the dark look in his eyes, goosebumps popped up all over your body. He swiped his long, wet tongue over his lips and then casually turned his back on you to continue perusing your belongings.

“Can I get you anything? Water...wine…” you asked, lighting a scented candle and then leaning against the dresser once you’d finished your quick clean.

“Do you have any banana milk?” He asked and looked over his shoulder at your surprised face before he laughed, “I’m fucking with you. I don’t want anything.”

Your thighs rubbed anxiously together as you watched him look over your bookshelf. He opened a few boxes to find letters and photographs before moving on.

“You look like you’re looking for something.” You said with a tiny gulp.

“I am.” He said honestly before tugging open one of your bedside drawers.

“How do you know I even have what you’re looking for?”

He smirked as he made his way around the bed to the second drawer. Placing his hand on the handle he watched your cheeks flush and he said, “You absolutely have what I’m looking for...angel.”

You were practically shaking as he pulled the drawer open. He laughed again before reaching into the drawer and pulling out your favorite teal colored vibrator. Turning towards you he spun it around in his hand.

“Not even in the cute, silk drawstring bag for added privacy. Just sitting right on top where anyone can find it. What a bad girl...” He stepped over to you and dragged the toy against your thigh. “This guy must see a lot of action.”

“Maybe.” You said as he moved the vibrator up under your dress. “Why were you looking for it?”

“I wanted to see what you’re used to.” He leaned in until you felt his breath on your neck. “I wanted to see if you could take me.”

Your eyes closed gently, “And?”

“Inconclusive.” He said inhaling you deep into his chest. “I’ll have to conduct further tests. So if you’d be so kind as to go lay down for me.”

“Okay…”

“So agreeable.” He watched you slip past him and move toward the bed. “Take the dress off first.”

You stopped just at the edge of the mattress and unzipped the side of your dress. His eyes stayed on you as you tugged the dress off your shoulders and slipped it down your hips and thighs until it fell to the floor at your feet. Turning around you looked at him, his head was tilted and there was something evil in his smile as he took you in. Noticing that you hadn’t moved he looked up and caught your eyes and with a small shiver you climbed onto the mattress.

“No bra.” He noted.

“Doesn’t go with the cut of the dress.”

“Interesting that you didn’t plan on having any visitors tonight, and yet you’re wearing such mouthwatering panties. Maybe you’re just the type that owns only fancy matching sets.” He said, pushing himself off of your dresser and moving towards the bed, “If I check your panty drawer what will I find, y/n? A dozen matching lace, satin sets or a mismatched  mess of cute cotton panties with pineapples and puppy dogs on them.”

“What do you think?” You asked softly as he sat down on the mattress next to you and crossed one leg over the other.

“I think I’d prefer you in neither.” He grinned, his pierced eyebrow raised and you realized his comment had been a subtle command.

Biting your lip, you squirmed as you pulled your panties off your hips and down your thighs. Changkyun cleared his throat and held out his hand once they’d unhooked from your ankles. You handed him the laced satin fabric. Fisting them in his hand he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm. That’s a five star cunt if I’ve ever smelled one.” He smiled, and placed the bundle of fabric in his pocket. His fingers danced across the skin of your stomach, over your hip, and down your thigh. “I’ve already done such a nice job on you. And we’ve only just begun.”

You watched quietly as he pushed your legs open and teased your soaked sex with this fingertips. They slipped over your slick folds, circled your sensitive clit, and dipped briefly into the velvety depth of you. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, taking in every reaction, no matter how small. No matter how hard you tried to hide it from him, he was learning you too quickly. He lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth and hummed pleasantly as his tongue ran over them.

He dropped his hand down to your mouth and said, “Open.”

You twisted your tongue around his fingers before sucking them into your mouth. When he groaned and his eyes fell closed you wanted to cheer in celebration that you’d finally gotten him. Even if it was small, and even if he was definitely going to own you much harder, you internally celebrated your little victory. After a long minute passed with his fingers in your mouth he removed them from your lips and cupped your face in his hand.

“I...like you.” he said softly, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

Dropping his hand beside him he picked up the vibrator that had been laying on the comforter. A shiver went through you when he clicked the toy on and brought it between your legs. Your toes were already starting to curl into the blanket beneath you and all he’d done was drag the vibrator over your pussy. He circled the toy around your clit several times before dragging it down and back up. You didn’t know exactly what his plan was but you loved how it felt. Once he’d gotten the vibrator as dripping wet as you were, he pressed it inside of you slowly. Your mouth fell open at the sudden filling sensation of it.

“Touch yourself.” he requested.

As your hand reached down to play with your hardened clit, Changkyun leaned forward and took one of your nipples in his mouth. There was something so...detached and demeaning in the way you were completely naked and exposed while he remained fully dressed. Despite how small he had you feeling, you still felt incredibly powerful with all of the focus being on you. It was surprisingly sexy. You moaned as you felt your oncoming orgasm for a second time that night, while he fucked you with your own vibrator. Your free hand slid up into Changkyun’s hair and massaged the back of his head as he continued to suck and tease your breasts with his teeth.  

“Fuck!” You shouted, back arching off the mattress, “Don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna cum.”

You were right there that moment of agony before the ecstasy. Except ecstasy didn’t come and neither did you. Changkyun had pulled the vibrator from between your legs and turned it off and with the loss of the fill your hand had dropped subconsciously.

“Why?” You whimpered.

This was the second time he’d done that tonight and you were annoyed and furious and so aroused you wanted to scream. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing a few stray strands of hair from your sweat beaded forehead.

He shrugged, “It’s funny. You’re very cute when you squirm.”

He stood up from the mattress and pulled his jacket from his body before folding it and hanging it over the plush reading chair in the corner. He hummed a cheerful song as he walked back to the bed, rolling his sleeves up his forearms.  Standing at the end of the mattress, he looked over you. Grabbing your ankles and he dragged you down the bed slightly until he had you where he wanted you and then he climbed onto the bed between your legs. Spreading your legs wide open he admired what he’d done so far. You laughed to yourself as he inspected your swollen, sticky cunt.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, spreading your lips open.

“Nothing.” you answered quickly.

You gasped as he smacked your sensitive sex, “Don’t lie. Tell me what you think is so funny. I love a good joke just like anyone else.”

“It’s just…” you sighed, “If you’re going to try and eat me out...it’s not going to work. Not after you’ve already gone so hard with the vibrator. It just won’t be enough to get me off.”

He laughed lightly, “Do you mind if I try it? If you think it won’t work, it probably won’t work but, I’d still like to try.”

“I’ve never said no to head before.”

You’d had one boyfriend in the past who always asked you to sit on his face. It was some of the best head you’d ever gotten. The way his tongue got deeper than any other before him, you were sure it was the only way you could come from oral alone. That was until now, until Changkyun.

He started out so timid. Tiny kitten licks, a long slow swipe of his tongue from bottom to top. It was nice but as you’d suspected it wasn’t about to bring you to orgasm. Then he changed tempo and once he had you suspected that his original apprehension was a red herring.  

He pushed your legs open and put the weight of his arms down on them to keep from moving, which was smart because in seconds your body was attempting to snap them shut on his face. He sucked your clit between his lips and beat it senselessly with the tiny metal piercing on his tongue. You’d been wrong, and if he’d asked you would have admitted it readily. However he didn’t ask, he just kept going. You fisted his hair in between your shaking fingers.

“What...the...fuck.” you gasped as he snaked his tongue inside of you.

Not just inside of you, but deep. Deeper than should have been physically possible. There was half a sense of concern, what had he actually shoved inside of you, but the rest of you just didn’t care. The part that didn’t care won over as your hips started to push up into his face, needing more.

“Oh my god!”

Your gasps turned to shouts of pleasure as he brought out his secret weapon. With his tongue impossibly deep inside of you, the piercing massaging your slick sensitive walls you thought you could come like that. Then his nose brushed against your clit. You couldn’t breath. Your eyes blew wide and it felt like everything you thought you’d known about your own body was a mistake.

“Yes!” You screamed out as your hips tried to buck further into his face, “Fuck! YES! Oh god! Oh- shit!”

He kept on and you kept screaming until there was aggressive pounding on your bedroom wall from your neighbor. You knew you should stop screaming, that you should pull yourself together, but Changkyun and his devilish relentlessness wouldn’t let you.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum! I’m! Gonna-”

Changkyun pulled away from your pussy with a pop. He licked his lips as he pushed himself up off the mattress.

You deflated against the pillows like a sad balloon. “I don’t like you.”

He shrugged, “For a minute there it sounded like you were incredibly fond of me.”

“Why? Why do you hate me?”

“You said I wouldn’t be able to make you cum.” he said innocently, “It would have been so embarrassing for me if I failed, so I thought it would be better to just quit while I was ahead.”

Grabbing the pillow from beneath your head you swung it into his face. He grabbed the pillow with a genuine laugh and tossed it back on the bed.

“You know I was right there. You know you were going to get me off.” you glared. “Asshole.”

Walking around to the side of the bed he grabbed your hips and tugged you ruffly until your legs were hanging off of the edge where he stepped between them. He leaned forward and sucked the skin of your chest between his lips, moving up until he was latched onto your neck. Your arms slid up his back until your hands were hooked over his shoulders, holding him close.

Finally he pulled back slightly and whispered, “Maybe I just wanted to feel you cum on my dick. Would that be so bad?”

“No.” you said breathlessly as the dark look in his eyes washed over your body like a wildfire.  

A gulp traveled down your throat as he stood fully and removed his belt and unzipped his pants. “Flip over for me.”

“I want to see it.” you said curiously. 

“Fine.” he smirked and placed his hands on his hips. “Go ahead.”

Without a second thought you sat up on the bed and reached to unbutton his pants. You dragged them down his hips just slightly, along with the black boxer briefs beneath. Then, teeth digging anxiously into your bottom lip you freed the massive bulge you’d enjoyed so much earlier in the car.

“Oh.”

It was what you could only describe as the holy grail of dicks. Smooth and long, with perfect and even coloration. It was pretty. The thickness of it made you both nervous and excited. It sat heavy in your palm and the tip glistened with precum. Leaning forward you pressed a sweet kiss against the head and then sat back to lick the taste of him from your lips.

“Will it do?” he asked

“Only one way to find out.” you turned around, and dug your knees into the mattress.

You could feel his hand move between your legs once more. He pressed three fingers inside of you, just to be sure you wouldn’t be stretched too uncomfortably. When he finally sunk into you, you lurched forward onto the bed.

“Is that okay?” It shocked you how thoughtful and caring he sounded.  

You nodded and pressed back into him for assurance. “Don’t stop this time.”

“I won’t.” he promised, his hands wrapping around your hips as he continued on.

It was so slow and easy at first, you thought it would be nice if he could just keep doing it forever. A long satisfied moan escaped your lips. Once he knew you’d taken to his size he went harder, faster. Reaching forward he grabbed your hair tightly in his fist and pulled you back against his chest. It surprised you how sensitive your skin was against the silk of his shirt. Almost as sensitive as your pussy had gotten to his silk cock. The arm that wasn’t hanging onto your hair slipped around your body, his hand cupping your bouncing breast.

“Oh! Fuck me! Harder!” you begged as he slammed into you.

Your orgasm was close, coming faster than any of the ones before and only building bigger with every hard thrust.

“Oh, baby…” he panted against the top of your head, feeling you start to contract around him.

Then your eyes went wide, “NO! What are you doing? Don’t you dare.”

He’d pulled out and hadn’t pushed back in with the swiftness as he had before.

Changkyun only laughed. “Calm down. I just want to see that pretty little face you’re about to make when you cum all over my fat cock .”

You flipped over one more time and looked up at him skeptically. “I swear to God...”

He chuckled as he lifted your leg up around his waist and sunk back into you. “God doesn’t give a fuck if you cum. I do.”

There was something about being face to face. Having your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his forehead pressed against yours, your tongue being gently sucked in between his lips. You were glad he’d made the switch. This was nice. And though he was still fully dressed it felt intimate.

“Oh..Changkyun...yes.” you cried out as your orgasm tore through you threefold. You’d never come so hard, you weren’t sure you could stop. The tightening of your walls milked out his own orgasm soon after. Your body shook almost violently as you came but so sweetly your voice flowed against his ear when you breathed out a simple, “Kyunnie…”

It wasn’t something he’d ever wanted anyone to know. If people found out it would make him appear soft and weak. However, as intentionally uncaring and cruel as he often came off, all he’d ever wanted was to be wanted. Really, truly wanted. Not wanted because he was attractive or rich or had a big dick. And it was impossible for him to know what you’d really wanted him for but it just  felt different with you. It felt like more when you said his name like that, like you still wanted him even though he was done with you.

He knew when you said his name like that he’d fucked up. All he was trying to do was piss off Jooheon. It had been a joke. He didn’t plan to actually like you, he didn’t want to. He wanted to discard you like trash. Give you away to his brother as sloppy seconds and see how much he wanted you then.

“Stay here.” he said hurriedly. He pulled out of you and tucked himself into his pants before disappearing into your attached bathroom.

“Where would I go?” you muttered, before dropping back onto the mattress exhausted.

You closed your eyes and listened as he moved around your bathroom, trying to figure out what he was doing in there. You had figured he was just washing up but it was taking longer than you expected. When he finally returned you were nearly asleep.

“Not yet…” he said waking you up and then helping you off the bed. “Can’t let you go to bed looking like some teenage boys used sock.”

You snorted out a laugh and leaned your head against his shoulder. “You’re just so romantic I don’t know how to handle myself.”

In the bathroom you were genuinely stunned to see that he’d run a bath for you, complete with overflowing bubbles. He helped you step into the tub and eased you down into the warm water.

“Kyunnie…” he looked away from you and then gulped before looking back, “This is actually really sweet.”

“Well,” he grabbed a washcloth, dunking it into the water to use on your skin, “it can’t take all night. Minhyuk is still downstairs waiting for me.”

Lifting your hand you moved it over his neck and pulled him down for a kiss before muttering against his lips, “You can tell him to leave...stay the night with me.”

“I can’t.” he stood up from the tub and dropped the towel in the water. “I’m going to clean up out here. I’ll be back to get you out in a minute.”

He was panicking and he needed to get his composure back. It might be nice to stay the night with you. It might be what he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t. Not only was Minhyuk waiting to take him home, but Jooheon was waiting there for him. Jooheon. His brother. His only friend on earth. The only person who ever would and ever could understand him completely. The only person that would ever put up with his bullshit no matter what.

Jooheon. The one that he was certain was bound to you. At least if the mark on your forearm had anything to say about it.

So he took a deep breath, cleaned up the mess he’d made of your bed and went back to help you out of the tub like he said he would. He even dressed you and tucked you into the bed before getting his jacket off the chair. When he turned to say goodbye you were looking at him with big needy eyes and your lip between your teeth and he hated it.

“Will I see you again?” you asked.

He looked at you with one of his classically smug smirks that you’d seen over and over again all night and said, “I’m sure you will.”

[myhiraeth]

Circe London. / verse. / vampire 

*pls note that this loose background (as well as the rest of my kids’ supernatural-creature verses) is based mostly in vampire diaries lore. as far as I’m aware there are “vegetarian” vampires that exist mostly on animal blood so technically it’s a VD/TO/Twilight combo background lore

Born: 1862  Died/turned: 1885  Age at vampirification: 23  Aesthetic: Victorian 

Circe is an enigma as a vampire. She was born at the height of the Victorian Era and she’s not particularly concerned with hiding her leftover tics from the era, though little has ever been found about her mortal life or how she was turned. 

She’s incredibly well read, and has Bachelors in Linguistics, Anthropology, European & Russian Studies, as well as a PhD in Psychology all under various aliases. She’s fluent in English, French, Spanish, Russian and Arabic. The languages were learned along her 126 years, and school was a way to pass her time once women were allowed to attend. 

Circe is a collector. Information, things, particularly dangerous things. If you need to know something or need an item, odds are she can find it for you. She 100% at one point held the white oak stake, and probably owns a collection of stakes herself alongside an impressive array of silver and iron. Circe- much like Katherine and Damon- drank vervain once she found out it was detrimental to her, and has a relative but not absolute resistance to it. She does not own a sunlight ring and stays to her home during the daylight hours. She does have an extensive supply of stolen blood from hospitals and blood banks all over the country (she loathes the mess of killing, much prefers her blood neatly in crystal stemware), and if you’re truly in a pickle and at odds with your vampiric nature, she’s happy to give you some... for a trade. 

Circe owns two estates, one in Blackpool, UK and one stateside. Both are reminiscent of the infamous Winchester home with twisting halls and many rooms, all the better to hide from sunlight or enemies, but her aesthetic is typical light colors, particularly white. 

And yes, this gets awkward when hosting hungry fellow vampires. Luckily she’s had a century and change to figure the best ways to clean blood.