#there’s this place by me and they do this sale sometimes

[eddiesvixen]

If You Want Blood (You Got It)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 (𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 (𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀), 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗴𝘆𝗻𝘆, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀, 𝗻𝘂𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟱.𝟰𝗸

the second chapter of Open Til Midnight

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The faucet leaks in the restroom as you finish your eyeliner in the mirror. This saturday morning you made no time to do your makeup at home given you didn’t get much sleep. You just keep seeing that hold print in your head. That ugly shade of orange from that sheet of paper.

Closing the Empire

due to purchase

Nine Thousand Dollars

a new environment for educational purposes

provocative musical acts

Fuck You, Larry Bassinger.

To sell Empire is to sell your soul. The blood, sweat, tears, hard work, art, albums, dents, scratches, carpet fuzz, pins.. everything you and your friends, your family put into Empire, all gone. Turned into something completely contradictory. Provocative musical acts?! What the hell did that even mean?

Knock, Knock.

“I’m in here.” You call out to whoever it is.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

You open the door to see Eddie standing there. He didn’t get much sleep either and honestly you both hadn’t spoken much in the van ride here today. He holds up two coffee cups.

“Since it’s too early for a Jolt.” He forces a small grin for you.

You groan. “Damn i’d kill for a jolt. My eyes haven’t felt this heavy since we snuck out to that Overkill concert in ‘81.”

This time Eddie actually smiles. “Oh you were a complete mess, princess.”

“Come on it wasn’t that bad.” You sip your coffee, grateful that Eddie always gets your order perfect.

“I remember having to carry a certain girl to the van because she got so wasted she couldn’t even walk straight.” He grins, grateful that his comment got you to laugh.

“You know what? It’s your fault for even buying the tickets.”

“Well you had turned 16. I know it was a month late but admit it, best birthday gift you ever had.”

“Best concert memory I have.” You smile at him and he returns one as well.

“Many more to come, sweetheart.” He sips his coffee and runs a hand through his messy curls. “Ready to get out there?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you up front.”

He nods, giving you a shoulder squeeze before leaving the restroom. You straighten up and fix your hair one last time before walking into the backroom and putting your lanyard around your neck.

“Yeesh. Yoga pants? Are you okay?” Robin says from the bulletin board, hanging up a flyer.

“Uh, yeah. Just.. my period.” You were quick to make up a lie.

“Damn. I have some Tylenol in my locker if you need it.”

You smile, loving how Robin has pretty much an entire survival kit in her locker. “I’ll be okay for now, but thanks.”

When Hopper’s office door opens, you both look up. You feel a bit shaken with how he says your name.

“My office. Now.”

Robin looks at you and you shake your head. When he walks back into his office she runs over to you.

“Something happen last night?”

“Probably just left a door unlocked or something.”

She raises a brow. You can be rebellious sometimes but never irresponsible. Not with Empire. But before she can ask you’ve already walked into his office, closing the door.

“Hey Hop-“

“Jim. You call me Jim, now sit.”

Well that’s odd. You sit.

“Just got a call from Larry.”

Shit.

“Do you know who Larry is?”

“No sir.”

“Larry. Larry is my boss. The very man who sold me this store. Larry helps with our funding, our sales, our publicity. Larry is the reason we get an ad in the city newspaper. Larry takes the money we earn, doubles it, cashes it out into our checks and uses the rest to help buy us more music. Larry could not do any of that last night. Do you know why?”

Shit.

“The money.”

He takes a deep, frustrated breath before placing the cash pouch on his desk. “Why didn’t you take money to the bank?”

“I forgot.” You’re quick with your answer, but so is Jim.

“Don’t.” He knows you. You never forget. You never even leave the store until everything is perfect for the next day. “Tell me the truth.”

You sigh. “Bassinger Library and Cafe.” You say it with an angered frown, the same one Hop’s face morphs into once he hears you say it. “I saw the paper in your drawer. Me and Eddie.”

“Does anyone else know?” He says it as less of a question, more of a ‘Please tell me no one else knows.’

“No.”

“Listen-“

“Hop, why? Why would you keep this from us?”

“You think I like this? You think I wanna sell this place? Think i’d ever let you down?”

“That’s in seven days Hop, Seven!”

“Calm down.” He nods at you and you sigh, shaking your head.

“You can’t just let him win.”

“I’m doing my best. I didn’t tell you because if this works, if it works.. you never would’ve known this place was ever at cost.” He runs his hand through his hair, more stressed about the situation than you thought. He’s usually so tough, big and bad Jim Hopper but right now even he seems shaken.

“If what works?”

He stands up and goes to the vent, pulling off the hatch and taking out a red envelope. He walks back over to the desk and hands it to you. When you open it you can’t believe your eyes as you pull out the cash.

He tosses the navy blue apron onto the table, the logo in bold cursive. Bassinger’s Cafe and Library.

“Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars. That’s how much me and Joyce have saved up since I got that letter 3 months ago.”

Three months. He hid this from you all when you celebrated Will’s birthday. He was hiding it when you went bowling, when you hit the record of selling your ten thousandth cd in the store. He hid it when you framed Jonathan’s first magazine published photo in the front of the store.

All of these happy memories over the past three months, and he hid this from you. No. He protected you.

“Hop-“

“I’m trying my best. We have done the best we can do. But the man always wins. Always.” He looks at you and you don’t know if you want to cry or rage.

“We have to try, Hop. This may be his property but it’s our store, our home.”

“We’ll never make ten thousand by the end of the week.”

“We have to try! Don’t I get a say?! Don’t any of us get a say?! I can’t just sit back and watch this happen!”

It’s all you did when your parents argued and fought, when your dad left you in that house with your mom and she paid bills by selling her body, when your friends got beat up by jocks in high school as one held you back. You sat there and watched. You had no choice. Just as Hopper’s telling you now.

“I have done all I can do. This is it.” He grits his teeth and runs his hands over his face.

“Bullshit!” You glare at him and shake your head. “It’s not too late and he doesn’t get the only say! We can’t just-“

“I said this is it!” He slams his fist against the desk and you glare at him. Angry and yet, sad. He never yells at you, any of you. But with both of you being so frustrated about the store, it’s come down to this.

He softens his voice. “I’m sorry kid.”

You frown and sit his envelope back on the desk. You nod and stand up, walking out of his office.

~~~~~

Three thousand four hundred and thirty seven dollars

That’s a lot of money, but not enough.

Six thousand five hundred and sixty three dollars..

That’s how much more you need to save Empire before it could become something so.. shitty. Instead of rustic wood and vinyls, you’d smell coffee and matcha. No more Poison over the speakers, just a slow jazz. No more colorful walls and decorative rugs with the fuzzy layers, just a boring plain blue.

And as much as you fought it, you can’t be angry with Hopper. He’s done his best, he has shown you all you have. And it wasn’t enough. Nothing’s ever enough.

“Excuse me!” The man almost yells in your face.

“So sorry.” You stand up straighter, completely sunk into your thoughts not remembering your place at the register.

“I bet you are. Just ring these up please?” He sits his cds on the counter.

Brown rugged hair, way too many tattoos, a beer gut, piercing evil green eyes, a rugged beard that touches his chest, which is also way too hairy and peeking out of his gym shirt. You’ve met this type before. Your mother had guests like him all the time.

“Sure.” You nod, scanning the cds, wanting to hurry this exchange. You scan his cds and a hand slips by your side, looking for a marker.

“Sorry.” Jonathan says as he grabs the sharpie and starts to write on the smaller boxes. Orders to ship off for mail.

You sigh when you open a cd case that feels too light. You open the Beastie Boys case to see that the cd is missing. “Um, Jonathan could you grab me another Licensed to Ill?”

Jonathan nods and walks off, but the customer is annoyed. “What’s the problem?”

“The cd in this case is missing.”

“What are you saying I stole it?” He snarls.

“No sir, my coworker’s just-“

“Checking the cameras? What, do I look like a fucking thief?!” He snaps, and that immediately catches the attention of Jonathan, and half the store.

When Eddie hears your voice and a man screaming after it, he stands up from organizing the folk vinyls and his eyes lock on you. He knows you were upset earlier and by the look of your face and the way you’re gripping the counter, you’re seconds away from cursing this man out. He rushes to you.

“Is there an issue here?” Eddie says as he walks up behind you.

You take a deep breath. “No, this gentleman just needs a new-“

“A new cd.” Jonathan nods and scans it, sitting it down on the counter. The man glares at him but fishes into his pocket for cash anyways.

Eddie leans forward and whispers into your ear. “Let me handle him, you go take ten, yeah?”

You nod. You don’t speak because you know if you do you might actually lose your job. You walk off into the break room.

The guy rolls his eyes as he hands Eddie the cash, Jonathan watching discreetly as he finishes up on signing the order packages.

“What’s the return policy on these?”

Eddie puts the cash into the register and shakes his head. “For returning customers, thirty days. For you? Never.”

He glares as Eddie places the receipt in the bag.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You’re not welcome here anymore.” Jonathan clarifies for the smartass in front of him and Eddie.

“The fuck is this?” The guy glares at them, offended.

“Maybe next time learn to respect the women who help your sorry ass find the Beastie Boys.” Eddie says with a smug smirk.

The guy looks like he wants a fight but before he could raise up, Hopper walks up.

“Pete Aggerton. Right? You work at the auto shop by that mini dive bar. You know, the one with the shitty tools and shit service.”

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to speak up.

“You leave my storm, take your damn cds and never show your face here again, or I’ll have the police come there and tell them about your little hit and run incident near that playground. Think your wife wants to hear about another dui?”

He looks down on the man and he doesn’t even argue back. He takes his bag and curses as he leaves out. “Fucking pricks.”

Hopper turns to look at Eddie and Jonathan, giving them a look just screaming ‘Well done, boys.’

“Where’d she go?” He asks the boys.

“Back room.” Jonathan says.

“Hold down the register. Eddie get the girls into the break room.”

“Copy that.” Eddie smirks, proud to knock down that asshole. He gets Chrissy and Robin as Hopper ordered him to and they walk into the backroom.

Eddie expected to have to maybe give you a hug or have to calm you down but cleary you’ve taken matters into your own hands. Shoes off, feed kicked up as you lie back on the sofa, joint between your fingers as you take a pull.

“My my, what have we here.” Robin says teasingly.

You sigh and shake your head.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks.

“Peachy.”

But Eddie knows. And honestly he’s stressed too, so he holds his hand out, taking a nice lengthy drag.

“Damn that’s good. Don’t get too high, sweetheart. Need you till 9, remember?”

“Won’t matter next week, shouldn’t matter tonight.”

“What?” Robin raises a brow.

“Nothing she’s high.” Eddie tries to cover it up and Hopper walks in.

“Okay girls, we need to talk.” He shakes his head. “Put that out it’s not your break.”

“Why don’t we all just have a break?” You look at him and he could see you were still upset.

“Not right now.”

“I need a smoke, Hop.”

“And I need you to act your age. You’re 23 damn it act like it.”

The girls stay silent, not used to seeing you so angry with Hopper. You look at them.

“Think he’s called us back here to let us down easy girls.” Suddenly the room isnt so quiet anymore.

“Jim, what’s she talking about?” Chrissy frowns a bit.

Robin chimes in. “Are you firing us? I know I mixed up the tapes a few times but I can do better.”

“No one is getting fired.” Jim tries to calm the girls down.

“Like Larry’s gonna keep us on the payroll.” You scoff.

“Larry?” Chrissy says.

“Who’s Larry?” Robin asks, intrigued.

“Cut it out.” Eddie looks at you with a pleading look.

“Hop just tell them.” You frown, so drowned into your emotions.

“Tell us what?” Chrissy says.

“It’s nothing.” Eddie tries to save Hopper’s ass again.

“Who the hell is Larry?” Robin asks a bit louder over the chaos of the room.

“Who’s asking?”

Everyone’s head turns to the door to see a man in a very nice suit. Chestnut hair styled like Sinatra, a smile on his face and a fancy pair of shoes you see in those designer magazines.

“Larry.” Hopper nods and everyone’s eyes widen. You feel your heart stop. This is Larry Bassinger. You anger suddenly soothes down to something worse, fear.

~~~~~~

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Larry says as he looks around our break room. It’s very backhanded, given how he didn’t want to sit on the sofa.

“The staff takes decoration to heart.” Hopper nods as he sits in a chair across from Larry’s, you and the girls sat on the sofa while Eddie stands behind you three.

“Interesting.” He brushes it off and sits up. “Any of you ladies hang up something significant?”

“It’s all significant.” You speak up.

Chrissy sees you’re bothered and tries to cheer you up. “She decorated the frame for employee of the month.”

Robin chimes in. “Probably since she spends so much time up there.”

Larry’s brows raise. “Fascinating. I imagine you would make the finest employee anywhere else?”

“I prefer to not spend the rest of my life serving coffee to hipsters judging me for listening to provocative musical acts-‘“

“That’s enough.” Hopper warns you and Larry laughs.

“It’s okay.” He nods and looks from Hopper to you. “So you’ve seen the letter.”

“I have.” You nod.

“Me too.” Eddie adds in to defend you.

“Me and your manager, we went to school together. He tell you that?”

You and the others are shocked, but you hide it well. Clearly, he’s trying to win you over.

“He didn’t.”

“Well, we did. And when we graduated, I went right off to college and worked my dad’s firm. Real estate came easy. Buy, sell, move. Property to property and this place, let me tell you. Complete dump. I’m sure you wouldn’t know that considering it was decorated so much.”

Jim gives him a glare, a warning.

“This.. lot, is mines to keep. It’s simply rental. Never a full purchase. This store will be mines and I am no heartless fool, believe me.” He places his hand over his heart. “Which is why I’m here today.”

He pulls three papers from his briefcase and hands one to you, one to Robin, one to Chrissy. You all immediately frown. Job applications.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Chrissy looks at Larry a bit disturbed.

“Means you and your girls are promised and guaranteed well paid positions once the cafe opens next year.”

Your eyes widen. “Just us?”

“We find in waitressing that women are more smiled upon-“

“When serving stale pastries and coffee to snobs who can’t remember our names and undergrads who try to peek under our skirts? Yeah, no thanks.” Robin sits the paper down.

“I am just offering from the kindness of my heart.”

“Kindness?” You scoff and sit the paper down, more of a toss. “Kindness is letting Jim keep his store that feeds his family. It pays for colleges classes and career opportunities. We do donations and drives did you know that?!”

“I do. And we will keep those going. If you sign, it will be my first priority-“

“We don’t want to sell coffee, we want to sell records. This is our store!”

Larry glares at you, clearly upset that you’re not complying or even more, shutting up. “It is not your store!”

The rooms blares into a deafening silence.

“You had your daddy’s money. A college education and a promised career. This man, my manager. He had nothing. He found family here, we all did. And if you take Empire away..” You swallow, not even knowing how to simmer down the anger and sadness in your body so Eddie speaks up.

“Then that’s all gone too.” He stands behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Larry looks at all of you. The fear and tinge of sadness in everyone’s face, even Hopper’s. Larry contemplates what would he lose if he let this building go. Larry would lose nothing so Larry doesn’t give a shit.

“No money, no Empire.” He states it clearly.

You feel a boil of anger inside of you. Hopper’s eager as he stands.

“Larry, thanks for coming-“

“Fine.” You take a deep breath and look at Larry.

“Pardon?” Larry raises a brow.

“You want ten thousand we’ll get your ten thousand.” You look at him, wanting to wipe that stupid smirk off.

“And how exactly will you do that?” He challenges back.

“Want the money or not?” You glare at him. Larry looks at Hopper, and even he knows not to mess with you when you’re this determined. Larry navigates his vision back towards you.

“You got yourselves deal.”

~~~~~

8pm. You sit on the roof of Empire. After a lengthy conversation with Hopper and a few too many apologies, he agreed to let you take your last hour alone. That doesn’t last for long when you hear the familiar crunch of Eddie’s boots. He sits next to you, legs hanging from the roof. You can feel his eyes on you so you speak first.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You okay?”

“I’m sorry. About earlier, I just.. so many assholes today.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re just worried about you. I’m worried.”

He knows you really need a hug, so he scoots closer and wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean into him, enjoying the closeness.

“That guys a dick. Larry and that asshat from earlier, don’t pay them any mind. You’re great.”

You nod and speak softly. “I’m so tired. I mean, all my life Eddie. My mom brought men home like that customer all the time. Loud and arrogant and just so fucking rude. And then Larry comes in and shoves his fancy suits down our throats and brags his cash in Hopper’s face. It’s bullshit.”

“Definitely bullshit.” He scoffs but then he smirks. “But you were such a badass.”

You look up at him and grin. “Oh yeah?”

“Please. You want the money or not? Felt like I was in some badass mafia movie. Very metal.”

You smile and it warms Eddie’s heart. It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day.

“Idiot.”

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence before you speak up. “Hey..”

“Yeah?”

“Lets throw a party.”

He chuckles. “Well that’s random.”

“No.” You sit up and look at him. “We can tackle this two in one. Do you still have Rick’s number?”

“I don’t deal anymore, princess.” Eddie says woth a raised brow.

“I know.. but if we sell at our rager we could make tons of money and put it towards the store.”

“You know i’d do anything for you, but this is very risky.”

“It’ll just be weed.” You reassure him. “And maybe just a few baggies of K.” He grows silent, clearly thinking. “Come on, Eddie. A total rager for the beginning of summer and to save the Empire. Please.”

He can’t say no. Not when you look at him like that. Expectant and hopeful for the first time today. He knows he’s gonna regret it but he sighs and nods.

“Fine. But two things.”

You nod. “Okay?”

He holds up a finger. “One, Hopper can never find out about the drugs. He’s skin us both alive.” He holds up the second finger. “Two, we deal together. I don’t need some douche trying to bribe you just because you’re a girl.”

“Okay, yeah. Stays between us and deal together. How hard can it be?”

~~~~~

Sunday night. You’re actually feeling so much better. After your shitty day yesterday and being off schedule today, you got to sleep in, you got yourself all prettied up while Eddie and Jonathan spent the day getting your dealings for the party and arranging it at the dorms of Robin’s campus.

The party is alive, a perfect goodbye to the campus as most of these students are graduating and traveling to the beaches for the summer. They dance and drink in the halls, some making out in corners and others already rotating the pre-rolled joints you sold to them.

Eddie decided he would take care of selling the coke. If anything were to happen to a student because of his product, he wasn’t gonna take you down with him. Although, he would like to take you somewhere. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

That lacy black and red corset on your body, the way your hips swayed in that black skirt, the pretty black heeled boots that adorned your feet. You were a dream and more.

“Look!” You grin and pull out a wad of cash from your top and he gasps.

“Holy shit, how much is that?”

“Four eighty five.” You smile. “Some football player was so drunk he gave me an extra fifty. Wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Princess, you’re something else.” He grins.

“Where’s Jonathan?”

“In his dorm.” Eddie tucks the cash into his jeans pocket.

“With a party like this?” You raise a brow.

“Nancy’s with him.”

You gasp and laugh. “Damn. Good for them.”

“Yeah, good for them.”

“Let’s get a drink?”

“Lead the way, princess.”

The two of you weave through the crowd, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through the air. Eddie sticks close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you move through the sea of sweaty bodies and discarded red solo cups. The party is alive, chaotic, and exactly the kind of escape you both need after the hell of a weekend at Empire.

You grab two cups from the table and shrug. "What's your poison?" you ask looking through the bottles.

"Dealer's choice," he says, his smirk challenging you to surprise him.

There’s rum, vodka, tonic and some bottle with electric blue liquid and no label. You sit the chups down and take a smarter route. After all, you still have to sell tonight. You hand Eddie his usual, a beer, and you go for a Smirnoff. You settle by going outside, sitting in the grass outside of the dorms. You clink your bottles together.

“Cheers, to.. dealing drugs together?” He laughs.

“To getting cash.” You smile.

“And to saving Empire.” Eddie smile you both nod and drink your drinks.

The night air is cool against your skin, carrying the faint sounds of music and laughter from the dorms. Eddie leans back on his elbows, his grin fading into a thoughtful expression as he looks up at the stars.

"You ever think about what happens if we don't save Empire?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You take a sip of your Smirnoff, letting the burn sit in your chest for a moment before answering. "No. Not possible.” You swallow, you really haven’t. You don’t wanna picture a world without that place.

Eddie nods. "I mean I get it. Empire's like...home, you know? It's more than just a record store. It's the only place that feels like it gets people like us."

The freaks. That’s what we got called in high school. But at Empire it’s different. No rules, no barriers. Just us and our music. Sure it’s not perfect but Eddie’s right, it’s home.

You glance at him, noticing how the moonlight softens his features. "Yeah," you say. "That's why we're not gonna let it go under. I don't care if we have to sell every pill, every ounce. We'll figure it out."

Eddie leans back against the grass, his hands raking the blades like he's grounding himself. "It just sucks, you know? That it's all on us. Feels like the whole world doesn't give a damn about places like Empire. But if it was some fancy boutique or some sports bar? Everyone would be throwing money at it to save it."

"That's because those places are safe. Normal. Empire’s for people like us, people who don't fit their mold. They don't care if it disappears, but we do…and we're not gonna let it." You sip your drink.

Eddie can’t help but look at you. So beautiful in the moonlight. Your soft skin, your features, your words. It’s all so sentimental to him. He remembers sitting in the grass like this when you’d run out to the playground with him when you were 16. You’d smoke and laugh and talk about whatever. You always talked about how you’d leave that town one day and become something huge. You were so determined, just like you are now.

Eddie tilts his head and gives you a boyish grin, same one he’s had for years. "You've got that look again."

"What look?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"The 'I'm ready to take on the whole damn world' look." He chuckles softly. "Makes me think we might actually pull this off."

You grin despite the weight sitting in your chest. "We will. We have to. Because if I have to hear Larry’s pompous ass laugh one more time I might actually strangle him.”

“A show I’d pay to see.” He laughs and finishes off his beer.

You laugh too but the tension lingers. You both know the stakes are higher than ever, and with a shared look you silently agree to take down that corporate asshole together.

~~~~~

It’s safe to say Sunday night was a success. A small one, but a success nonetheless. You and Eddie had sold all of the product you came with and spent the rest of the night drinking and dancing. You’d gotten a bit wasted after your seventh Smirnoff so Eddie carried you into his van and let you sleep.

And in the morning you wake up to something so gentle on your nose. Another nose. But it’s not Eddie’s no, this one’s much smaller. You wake up to the purrs of Eddie’s cat, Ozzy.

You smile and nuzzle against the small black furball. “Good morning.”

You sit up and it all crashes on you. Your head spinning in a whirlwind of aches, your clothes which are now just some boxers and a Pantera tee you left here at Eddie’s the last time you had movie night. You’d gotten stretch and look around the bedroom to see that it’s missing it’s main thing: it’s owner.

You pad out of the bedroom. Alone in Eddie’s apartment. You feed Ozzy and read the note Eddie left you on the counter.

Aspirin’s in he bathroom mirror, pancakes in the microwave. Be back soon! :)

You smile and take the aspirins, practically chug your glass of water and sit on Eddie’s sofa, watching Full House as you eat your pancakes.

Once you’re full, you clean your plate and decide to look around Eddie’s place. You look through his books, tapes, magazines. Loving all of his trinkets and things, same as he loved going through yours when he came to your apartment for the first time.

You finally settle on a Guitar World magazine, Motley Crue adorning the cover. You smile and flip through the pages, looking at the different pics of different bands. Flipping and flipping and.. oh.

Polaroids. Polaroids in Eddie’s magazine. Polaroids.. of Eddie in Eddie’s magazine.

You carefully lift and count them. Four polaroids. In one, he’s got a shirt on, his hand in his hair and the other holding his guitar as the strap hangs over his shoulder.

In the next his hair is more messy, probably from taking his shirt off because it’s off now. His tattoos on his porcelain skin stealing almost all of the attention because in the third one the guitar is gone and he’s posing like some real rockstar, leaning back against the wall where his tapesty and posters hang.

You smile at the smug grin on his face. Taking photographs pf himself in his bedroom like he’s documenting. What a cocky bastard. Speaking of..

“Oh..” You gasp and your eyes widen. This fourth pic. The way his eyes look into the camera. Like he’s demanding attention now. And instead of a guitar occupying his hand, it’s something much harder and yet, just as red.

Your mouth hangs as you see his fist wrapped around his cock. The way its leaking makes you wonder if he’d been jerking off or if those tight jeans he had on in the other pictures had made him this hard.

An even better question crossed your mind. Why did he take these pictures? Was it for someone? Was it for fun? Is he really that big or did the camera do him a huge favor.

You gasp when you hear the door open and unlock. You quickly put the polaroids back into the magazine and tuck it under the sofa.

“Oh hey, you’re up.” He grins as he walks in with a white envelope.

“I am.” You grin, trying to play it cool. “What’s that?”

“I’m glad you ask princess.” He flops onto the sofa next to you. “Counted the cash from last night’s dealings and added it with Hopper’s cash.”

You take the envelope and open it. “And how much is this?”

He grins. “Four thousand and fifty eight dollars.”

“Wow. We sold that much last night?”

“Yeah. But if we’re gonna reach ten thousand might wanna consider some other options.”

“I’ll.. look into it.” You look at the crotch of his jeans then away. “Um, I should probably go. Get washed up and figure out some of this.. cash situation.”

He frowns. “Can‘t hang out?”

“Sorry. I’m just hungover still.” To be fair you didn’t lie, those aspirins did nothing for your headache and you were very nauseous, especially now.

“Oh. Well you can just take my bed-“

“No! I mean, no. It’s fine Eddie, really.” You stand and he follows suit, walking you to the door.

“Should I drive you?” His brows furrow a bit.

“It’s fine. I’ll get a cab. You just take a day off, yeah?”

“You’re so weird.” He shakes his head. “Fine. Go on but me and Ozzy will not let this slide.”

“Noted.” You grin and bite your lip to shut yourself up when he hugs you, the chains from his jeans freezing your legs. The close proximity knowing what’s in his jeans. It’s suffocating, but you hug him anyways then quickly pull away.

“Bye Eddie.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

You leave his apartment and take the longest cab ride back to your apartment. The shower you tske doesn’t help you feel any cleaner. You need to get the image out of your mind, and quickly. There’s so much to focus on. You’ve got a music store to save, no time for distractions. But damn is it a good one.

series taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92

pls let me know if you want to be added in the comnents, xo

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 61: I Bet It Stings

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I don’t like this. Do not. Like. This. Being escorted by my broers, sure. Being escorted by the Peaky Blinders, oké. But having to travel with a stranger?

“How long is the drive to London?” Mr. Dixon asks in his Southern drawl as we exit the barge. 

And I thought I stuck out here. A Georgian distillery man in a cream suit catches even more attention. Vader certainly has a fair share of business associates.

“Please be patient, Mr. Dixon. A car is on its way to meet us.” I walk up to the ticket office and signal to the man inside. “Hello. I am Verena Steenstra, foreign representative for Thomas Shelby and Shelby Company Limited. Is there any transport scheduled for us?”

His eyes light up at the mention of the company. “Of course! Right this way.”

We’re led down the dock and into a parking lot, where a shiny Fiat 501 is waiting.

“Woo-wee! This Mr. Shelby sure does know how to spend his money,” Dixon comments as he inspects the car. “What a beauty.”

“Mrs. Thorne sent the car, Ms. Steentra,” the driver informs me as he places our bags in the trunk. “She said to tell you that Mr. Shelby is currently doing business in London.”

A perfect warning. It’s also a perfect way to escape my escort. Thanks, Ada.

The panic of the market crash is already spreading. I see it on everyone’s faces as we’re driven through London’s crowded streets. The Houses of Parliament stand proudly ahead. The Fiat parks near the front and I head straight to the nearest phone booth.

“Ada? I just arrived in London. Any news?”

I hear her grunt. “Business as fucking usual. God, I hate him so much right now! I hope you didn’t come back just for him.”

“You know that’s not true,” I mutter sourly. “Sometimes I hate him, sometimes I love him. There are even times when I want to shoot him. Are you alright?”

Ada sighs. “Do not say a word. I’m pregnant.” She’s-?! “Don’t say a word! It’s bad enough hearing Linda and Lizzie complain about their husbands. I don’t need someone breathing down my own neck.”

So Thomas did marry her. Is that what it takes? Get knocked up and Thomas Shelby marries you. I swear sometimes I want to slap him straight across his hoogdravend face-

The face I spot across the courtyard. Thomas. Wearing a sharp navy suit and his signature hat. Quite the hoity-toity job for a man who breeds horses.

“We’ll talk more when I get to Birmingham," I mutter before hanging up.

I lead Dixon towards the gangster, trying to keep my breathing steady. You are not here for him. You are here to earn money. You are here to help your family.

“Well, well, well. Thomas Shelby, MP,” I mock brashly.

Thomas, who still has his back turned, freezes. He whips around and his look of shocked recognition is priceless.

“Verena,” he breathes out. “You’re here…”

Yes, I still exist. Yes, I did pick out a dazzling blue dress to show off my best features. No, I do not regret showing up unannounced to him.

“And I brought business with me,” I finish for him and gesture to my escort. “Thomas, this is Mr. Dixon, from Georgia. He owns a distillery operation in Tennessee.”

Thomas looks between us. Then down at my hand. One might say he’s examining for my own wedding band.

“Great. Why is he here?” Thomas asks bluntly.

I wave a finger at him. “Be nice. He’s here because he lost stocks, the same as you, and wants to do a sale. And…”

“And to escort this lovely lady,” Dixon states and boldly places a hand on my waist. “Her daddy asked me to. A true beaute if I ever did see one. How fetching, indeed. Too bad you’re a Yankee.”

Thomas stares the man down with an icy glare. “Hilarious. May we please proceed, Mr. Dixon?”

“Before you both start, please tell me why you have summoned Liam?” I demand lightly. “Before I left he mentioned receiving a letter from you. Obviously you two stayed in touch.”

Thomas stays quiet for a second, measuring his words. “Your brother is a hard worker. He secretly offered his services for the time you are here so he can keep you safe.”

Keep me safe? That practically means keeping an eye on me! Why on Earth would Liam desire to work with the Peaky Blinders? The job is cut-throat, brutal, adrenaline-inducing- Who am I kidding? He’s a prime candidate for it. I know it’s his decision but I do not want my broer being caught up with Thomas more than he has to!

“Very well. I will leave you men to talk.” I back away crossly and start walking back to the car.

Mr. Dixon gets a confused look. “Ms. Steenstra, I’m supposed-”

“You were supposed to escort me from New York to England on orders of my vader. You have fulfilled that obligation, therefore your services to me are no longer required.”

I am going to Birmingham where the real action is. Not all these suits meeting in dark rooms. I am going to bring my information to Arthur, the head chairman, and continue on my merry way-

“That is all?”

The hidden upset in Thomas’ voice leaves me feeling both cocky and… shameful. It pains me to treat him like this but I am not lowering my defenses again.

“I did not come here for you, Mr. Shelby,” I reply, still facing away. “I am here because this new depression has twisted my hand and I am here to earn money.” He has no response to that. “Now you know what it feels like to face the other end of disappointment.”

I bet it stings.

“Is this about Lizzie?” Thomas asks when I start walking again.

“You brought it up, not me. Good evening.”

“Oi! Verena-!” He’s trying to follow me.

I pivot and hold up a hand to stop him. “Stay away, Thomas. I’d rather not repeat the same routine. You need help, I support your ridiculous idea, you botch it up and push me aside, and I walk away.” I slide into the car and give him one last look of warning. “Let’s skip to the last part, shall we? I’m going to see Ada and get some real business done.”

Thud!

I shut the door in his confused face and watch as he gets smaller and smaller behind me. Remember, Thomas, you made me into this.

The instant the Fiat drops me off at Ada’s house she comes running from the front door to give me a hug.

“You’re back!” The Shelby zuster cheers. “Did you see Tommy yet?”

Her subtle curiosity makes me give her an annoyed smirk. “Left a Southern gentleman to talk with him. Now that people in America hear my family’s partnered with you lot they all want in on the action.”

She tilts her head. “Maybe the Southern man fancies you.”

“He’s here for business, same as I.” That closes the topic. “What about you? I guess you missed sex after all.”

Ada smiles and pats her stomach as we make our way inside. “Polly predicts it’s a girl. Says I should name her Elizabeth.”

“And who’s the lucky father?” I grunt as I heave my trunk into the parlor.

“His name is Ben Younger. A black man.”

“Another blessing from God,” I declare warmly and ignore her last comment. “You should be very happy. He sounds like a very charming man if he has won over Ada Thorne’s heart. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Ada smiles gratefully, then turns to a different subject. “I don’t know what plans you have yet. I’m meeting Tommy in a few days to discuss some things with a comrade.”

He’s still dancing with socialism? Wonderful. Something else we can disagree on.

“Speaking of, Tommy wanted to know why you’re giving him the silent treatment.”

Is that what he thinks I’m doing? If anything, the treatment I’m giving him is his own. And I will be anything but silent about it.

“I am not.”

Ada rolls her eyes and pours some fresh tea. “Come off it, Verena. You haven’t been too chatty with him since you last left.”

“Thomas used to appreciate me for listening. Now he won’t even say thank-you. So he’s going to get his own words spat into his face.”

“Yes, well, Tommy’s a stubborn twat.” She gives me a pointed glance. “Yet you still wear his necklace.”

Drat. She noticed. I finger the silver pendant around my neck, unable to think of a reasonable rebuttal. I can’t help it. I tried to dispose of the thoughtful gift that reminds me of him. Either it’s nostalgia or pathetic pity on myself, but I cannot bring myself to throw Thomas’ cross away.

“Can you please just say something so he’ll stop nagging me about when you’ll start talking again?”

Something about how she says that sounds practiced. Anticipated. Not like something Ada would normally go along with.

I pick up the teacup and inhale the sweet scent. “He told you to ask me, didn’t he?”

“Yes! He called me before you got here! And I’m tired of being a bloody messenger!” Ada outbursts. “So tomorrow you are going to Arrow House and talking to him properly!”

My jaw drops. “I don’t-!”

“Shut it.” Ada picks up a briefcase and sets it on the table. “Here. These are documents from some contacts in Boston. Go have him sign them and talk to him before he nags my ear off. No more squabbling. This is an order on behalf of the company. End of discussion.”

Sneaky Ada. How does she expect Thomas and I to chat and make up? And for me to risk opening up again? He’s like a drug. The longer I know I can’t have him, the more I want him. The devil of Birmingham.

I could leave straight to Germany now. Leave before I get in too deep again. Thomas might not like it. But my precious time should be used for making money and avoiding more heartbreak. Then again, Polly wouldn’t approve if I go without seeing her. I could give in and let them hate me… No. No matter how hard I try to convince myself, I cannot let him go. 

The only thing I can do is my job.

@meadows5

[rosicheeks]

gotta ask the follow up question...

What tattoo do you want to get the most?

Nooooo I want so many though 😤😤

[front-facing-pokemon]

[tsundereition]

omg guys proshipper isn't "basic dni criteria", like that list is supposed to represent actual irl issues(*), not some 2020 internet discourse. you guys are so annoying like if you're uncomfortable interacting with proshippers i understand and respect it, although you probably have a very twisted idea of what the word means (would make a separate post abt it but there are hundreds already). but please don't equate it to actual crimes. (*)also do you seriously think that a bigot troll is going to read your dni and be magically expelled from your strong aura. if anything it's going to make them want to harass you more. it's obvious that those lists are just a pose like "if i don't put racists dni they're gonna think i'm racist" NO aaagh you don't have to over-specify(?) everything about you when interacting online can we please go back to being normal istg. reject modernity embrace not writing a dni list and just blocking people like a normal person <3

[cozylittleartblog]

i think i am going to make a pay what you want digital zine this year for people who want to get into making little artist alley knick knacks like keychains and stickers and enamel pins, cuz i get a lot of asks about that and i think it would be nice to put my design skills to the test and have it all in one place! that being said, what kind of questions do y'all have about this stuff that you would want answered? everything from packaging to shipping to the products themselves, what would you guys want in there? keep in mind i have only sold on etsy myself and a couple craft shows, so i can't give much advise about personal storefronts.

please put them in the replies on this post so it's all in one place!

[camgoloud]

look it’s not really that i wish i was in a relationship because the last couple of years which i have spent firmly and resolutely single after finally getting over the All That which went down between me and the last person i had any serious romantic interest in have been without question the happiest years of my life. and it’s also not really that i wish all of my friends WEREN’T in relationships because i want them to be happy et cetera et cetera. but this whole thing where both situations are happening at the same time (i.e. me: single; literally every one of them: not) does have me feeling a little. weird i guess.

[softness-and-shattering]

Lets say its a paperback published in the last 5 years.

You can also add in tags how much youre normally willing to pay, and in what currency if you're cool with sharing that info.

[confinesofmy]

i'm planning next week's picnic like if one thing goes wrong i'll be publicly beheaded. i'm locked in to such an absurd degree.

[neganium]

asfjksah I always feel kind of... guilty?? getting tips. it rarely happens, mind; but sometimes it feels like getting something for nothing if I'm not left any kind of instructions. plus I'm horrible with followthrough if I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing.

[vv-ispy]

cracks knuckles I think a few of my mutuals are also into hollow knight so gonna liveblog a bit of it now that I'm FINALly getting around to playing it proper. will be tagged #hollow knight playthrough

[ursaspecter]

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

wtf i'm literally shaking and crying right now i just saw silver bullets for sale on temu why the fuck are there silver bullets on temu

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Hey. Hey. Look at me. Do you genuinely believe Temu of all places is going to have genuine sterling silver bullets for sale? TEMU. Wish and Shein's bastard child?

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

they had wooden stakes on there too i'm actually fearing for my and my partner's lives right now

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

Yeah I bought some wooden stakes from Temu and they broke instantly. I wasn't even using any force to put them in my lawn as it rained quite recently. I wouldn't worry too much about any silver bullets you find. They're probably just silver plated.

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Can confirm- Temu silver isn't real and can't hurt us. I bought a bunch of silver jewelry off there because I can't afford anything the legitimate stores are selling and when I tried them they barely even burned. Not worth it.

🍯 bearly-hanging-on Follow

Why on earth would you, a werewolf, buy silver jewelry???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

well for me it's a sex thing.

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Why would you voluntarily wear jewelry from Temu? Did you at least sanitize it first???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Uh... I licked it first. Werewolf saliva can disinfect surfaces right?

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

YOU WHAT

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

Oh my g-d just because werewolf saliva can make your wounds heal faster doesn't mean it works miracles!!!

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Wait how would you know that?

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

@.daddy-fenris is not the brightest sometimes.

🌕 daddy-fenris Follow

oh my god IT WAS ONE TIME why do you have to put me on blast right now

🦇 count-fuckula Follow

The world needs to know. Roadkill please go see a doctor or a vet or something.

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

i feel like this is taking away from the real issue at paw

🪢 knotexplosion Follow

Can't you see we're having a conversation here?

🌓 halfmoonhorror Follow

IT'S MY POST???

🍖 roadkill-meatloaf Follow

Not anymore it's not

[foldingfittedsheets]

I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.

All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.

For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.

So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.

I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.

The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.

My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.

I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!

It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.

I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”

“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.

The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.

I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.

[bananami]

The One Where Bakugo is Different With You (and your friends kinda called it but are too dumb to fully connect the dots) katsuki x fem!reader

No one understands what it is you did to make him like you. You insist that you didn't do anything. They don't believe you.

Bakugo isn't nice to anyone. He tolerates people. Sometimes. In fact, it's not like he's even nice to you. But he is different. And everyone has noticed.

"That's her seat, get up." He snaps at Mineta as the boy sits down next to him.

"What, she has to sit next to you?"

"Get. Up."

Mineta doesn't hesitate.

You've known him as long as the rest of them, but for some reason he seems softer toward you. Kirishima is the first to bring it up to him.

"Do you like her or something?"

"She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Denki is your friend, you don't like him."

"Hey!" Denki yells from the other side of the couch.

Bakugo just grits his teeth and doesn't respond.

Even when riffing with him, he takes what you say differently than he does with everyone else.

"What if I just cracked this egg over your head?"

He looks down at you. "I'd be impressed that you could reach."

"That hot head would probably fry it." Sero laughs at his own joke.

Sparks began to form from the explosion hero's good hand. "I will blast you out of this building!"

And forget about anyone else asking him for anything. He doesn't really do favors, not unless he's hounded to do them. But for you?

"I'm hungry."

Bakugo stands from the couch and holds out his hand to pull you up with him. "Let's go try the new sushi place down the block."

Or

"I have an interview with the talkshow next week but they want me there at like six in the morning."

He doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's opening his calendar to schedule himself off of work that day. "I'll stay by your place and drive you in the morning."

OR

A bag falls into your lap and the blonde plops down next to you. "They were on sale."

You open the bag to find your favorite candies, letting out an excited squeal. "They've been out the last two weeks."

"I told the guy to call me when he got a box in."

Denki tries to reach his hand out for a box but it's slapped away by the larger blonde. "Touch it or her and I will personally cut off that hand."

And then there's Kirishima's personal favorite interactions to watch. Something Bakugo has done since living in the dorms at UA, through your roommate years where all of you split an apartment to save up money.

Bakugo would get up to leave the room and stop in the doorway, staring directly at you. "Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Check your phone."

You would look down at your phone and laugh every time. "Are you embarrassed to say it in front of everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up and get over here!"

Everyone could read between the lines, and his blush on his cheeks.

But you'd never officially dated. Anytime any of the friend group would ask about it, you'd both deny it and change the subject. Kirishima and Mina would narrow their eyes in suspicion at you and one another.

"You just treat her different than everyone else." Kiri would point out.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do, especially not Bakugo." Mina would accuse.

The answers were always the same.

"Mind your own shitty business." Bakugo would snap.

"You all just look too much into things. He can be nice at times." You would always insist.

It would take all the way up until a random work party Bakugo's agency was holding for the truth to come out. For Denki to walk in on the two of you in the bathroom-

"Practically devouring each other! It was disgusting!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. His arms rested around the back of the couch with you tucked close into his side. "See this is why we kept it a secret for so many years, you're all being so dramatic about it."

"Years?!" Mina screamed. "How many years has this been a thing?"

You tried to avoid all eye contact with her.

"Since high school." Bakugo replied with ease.

"Since high school?!" Your friends gaped.

"When we were all living in the dorms?" Denki asked.

"Used to meet up on the old training grounds to make out."

"The apartment we all shared?" Kirishima narrowed his eyes.

"Snuck into each other's rooms like every single night, can't believe you guys never caught us then."

"When we all were interning at the same agencies?" Sero threw out there.

"Bribed the scheduling team to put the two of us on the same routes."

"Ok wait, but you guys told us you weren't and you used to talk about the different people you would go on dates with right in front of each other- oh my fucking god." Mina facepalmed.

Bakugo laughed maniacally as you tried to hold yours in.

"So you were talking about each other? Every single time?"

"Every. Single. Time."

Mina sighed. "This is actually insane, I can't believe you never said anything."

"I mean it's not like we should be that surprised, besides," Kirishima chimed in, "it's not like they're secretly engaged to be married or anything, right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit. "Please tell me you two aren't engaged."

Bakugo blinks a few times before responding. "Ok, we're not engaged."

"Bakugo!"

"Did you think I was just really nice to her all the time for no reason?"

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[dickaspointed]

𝑬𝑵- 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑱𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑳𝒀 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑻

hyung line

𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 , 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 , 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴

HEESEUNG always loved playing with your legs, they were hairless, soft and smelled really good. as his fingers were doing their daily skim up and down your plush skin, his fingers got caught around little gold letters that hugged your ankle tightly. his eyes dropped from his phone, using his index to pick up the small piece of jewelry to inspect it properly. obviously caught off guard from your leg being yanked so suddenly, you laughed nervously, lowering your own phone to watch his antics.

“what is this?” Heeseung asked, rotating it around your ankle.

“i got a custom anklet with your name, cute right? it was on sale—”

you barely made it off the couch alive, your legs were thrown over Heeseung’s shoulders for hours. every gold letter of his name spinning around your ankle as he fucked you senseless into the soft cushions.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAY often rested his cheek on your full chest. whether you had a bra on or off, that was his favorite place to rest. your fingers would course through his dark hair, gently tugging at the ends as your free hand thumbed through your murder mystery book.

sometimes his boba brown eyes would look up through the valley of your breasts to ask a really stupid question just to hear himself talk, but this time something silver sparkled in his eyes. his fingers wrapped around the little silver letters, holding it up better for him to see. caught off guard, you lowered yourself to him, a frown crossing your lips.

“hey! this was not cheap,” you started, moving to lean away but he stopped you. “jayyyy, c’mon it’s getting to the good part—.”

Jay watched his silver letters bounce between your bare breasts, mesmerized by the contrast of dewy skin and hickies that surrounded the crystallized letters. you clung to him for dear life as you rode him, bouncing along to meet and match every thrust he was offering.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAKE loved your hands the most, even though he was constantly groping your ass or tits. he simply couldn’t deny that he loved the softness of your hands on his. after a long day of stress induced manual labor, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed besides you and have your sweet, soft hands caressing his bare back.

sticking true to his plan he showered and threw on a random pair of underwear, throwing himself into bed. his body nestled between your parted legs, sinking into your delicate smell. “i’ve missed youuuu~” he cooed, bracing his back for your soft touches that felt like little butterfly kisses.

he felt a strangely cold material scratch the surface of his skin making him stir a bit before turning to grab your wrist. dangling from your wrist was his name in golden letters, little gems decorating the top.

“you like? i got it today! the nice little ole’ lady helped me pick it out—“

Jake pressed your wrists into the mattress, kissing the cold, gold, metal into your skin as he repeatedly as he pistons in and out of you. both of you barely able to choke back pleasurable sounds that would only come from a porno scene.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

SUNGHOON lazed into your shared bedroom after a much needed shower, a white towel hung low on his slender hips, showing off his monumental happy trail. you were stretched out across the mattress, scrolling through whatever new videos were trending.

once your boyfriend was dressed in boxers, he happily joined you in bed, reaching over to pull you into his muscled up arms. you rested with your cheek against his pec, holding your phone steady with one hand while the other caressed at his bare skin.

“what’s this?” he asked, guiding your free hand up to show off the ring that was wrapped around your ring finger. his initials in silver letters hugged your finger, the band was encrusted in cubic zirconia.

“i got it in the mail today! isn’t it purrrty—“

Sunghoon kissed your open hand numerous times whilst fucking your body down into the mattress before he intertwined your fingers with his. every now and then he’d turn your hand over to admire his little letters hugging your finger, letting it fuel him even more to fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked.

K BYEEEE !