#smoking glass products store

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 2]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

With an iced tea in hand, you unlocked the glass doors of your shop and entered. You turned on the lights, placing your tea on the counter and your bag in your locker. Since you were the only worker here, there was no one else to use the lockers but you.

"Roses, tulips, carnations..." You grabbed your notepad to check the incoming deliveries today. The first thing you did was check on your plants and water them.

"You're growing well." You smiled softly, seeing the plant that you sprout, moving the pot away from the direct sunlight.

"(y/n)?" You heard the familiar voice of your supplier at the back door and went over.

"Good morning, Mr Lee. Do you have any surprises for me?" You giggled. You had a good relationship with all your suppliers, they always helped you bring in quality products.

"Well, besides your usual orders, I have some hydrangeas if you would like." He climbed into his truck.

"Here." He pushed the bucket to show you.

"Oh, they're absolutely beautiful. I'll take them." You smiled. He nodded and helped you bring everything in, he usually knew where everything went.

"Sunflowers aren't selling too well." You shook your head in disappointment, seeing your sunflowers there.

"Sunflowers aren't trendy anymore. Have you seen what's on the internet? My daughter told me that girls are content with just bouquets of baby's breaths now. How times have truly changed, right?" He chuckled with a click of his tongue. You nodded and moved the roses into the refrigerated area.

"It's a minimalist thing, no? Bigger isn't better anymore. No one comes in for traditional bouquets anymore." You sighed, going to the cash register to get the money.

"Tell me about it... And this should be everything." Mr Lee said, glancing over the flowers that he brought in.

"Thank you, this is the payment." You handed the money to him. He nodded and placed it in his pouch.

"Also, Mr Lee. I remember you mentioning that Mrs Lee keep getting her hands burnt when she's working at her restaurant. I made her an aloe balm. This should help soothe the burns." You held the tin out.

"Oh, you're too kind, (y/n). Thank you so much for making this." He patted your shoulder.

"Have a nice day. See you next week." You walked him out.

"See you." The both of you bowed to each other and he jumped into his van before driving off. You returned to your counter and began your work for the day.

"Let's see..." You checked the online orders that you had and printed it out for reference.

Moving to your work bench, you began to prepare the flower preparations for each other. You trimmed the stems, removed the excess leaves and cut thorns away before wrapping them up with either cellophane or tissue paper.

"Hello? Are you open?" The bell above the door jingled. A girl walked into store, carrying a pot with her. You cleaned your hands and walked out to the front.

"Yes, we're open. How can I help you?" You smiled.

"My fern seems to be wilting and I can't seem to revive it. Can you help?" She asked.

"Let's see what's the issue." You escorted in. She placed the pot on your work table and you inspected it. The girl patiently waited, watching you as you checked it.

"From what I see, the soil isn't draining water properly. It's retaining too much water and suffocating the roots of the plant." You said.

"What? Can that happen?" She blinked.

"Yes, so that suffocation prevents the roots from absorbing the vitamins and minerals. You should mix a well drainage soil of this ratio and move your fern in." You wrote the ingredients down.

"And I can find this at the plant store?" She asked, reading through what you wrote down.

"You should be able to find the components. But if you don't mind waiting, I can mix some for you to take home." You offered. Hearing that, she let out a sigh of relief and nodded her head excitedly. You went to your storage area to grab the different soil components that you need.

"Peat moss, sand and potting soil." You mixed the components into a bag, adding some fertiliser as well since the fern currently lacked essential nutrients.

"For two weeks, put two drops of this plant reviver into the soil even if you are not watering it." You handed her a small vial.

"Thank you. Actually, do you mind repotting it into the new soil for me? I'll pay you." She requested.

"Alright." You took the fern out and got rid of the old soil. You poured the new soil in, creating a well to put the fern in. After that, you loosely covered the roots with the soil.

"Done." You smiled, removing your gloves.

"Thank you. This is actually my mum's plant and I'm helping her take care of it. I know nothing about plants." She said in embarrassment.

"No worries, the plant should be fine from here. If there are anymore issues, you can come back." You chuckled and rang up her bill. She nodded and paid.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of the shop. After that, you went back to preparing your orders. There were some pick ups today so you wanted to make sure that everything was in order for a smoother pick up.

"Hi, I'm here for a pick up?" A guy walked into the store.

"Sure, can I see your order number?" You asked. He showed you the confirmation email and went to retrieve his order. It was a flower box instead of a bouquet.

"Just make sure everything is okay for you before paying." You said, rounding the counter to the cashier.

"Do you mind changing the ribbons to pink too? She really likes pink." He requested.

"Of course." You grabbed the ribbon. With pink flowers, you wanted to add contrast with a different coloured bow but since he wants it to be pink, there was no issue with changing it.

"That's better. Thanks." He handed you his card.

"I wrote the congratulatory message as you stated in request email but if you'd like to write your own message. This is a spare card, on the house." You handed him the blank card.

"Thank you, I don't know what else to write but if I come up with something I'll add it." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. You hummed and rang up his bill, writing the invoice and handing him a copy, along with his credit card. With a grateful bow of his head, he left the shop.

Before you knew it, the clock hit 1pm, with customers coming in to buy, place advance orders or collect orders they've placed.

'Closed for lunch.'

You sat behind the counter with a tired sigh, taking out your lunch box. Your meals usually consisted of sandwiches or leftovers from dinner the night before.

Which was why Mrs Kim would usually come with food for you, always disapproving of how your eating habits.

RING!

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment." You said from behind the counter, not looking at the door. But you didn't hear the second ring of the door opening again so you stood up.

"Oh!" Your eyes widened in surprised as Hongjoong stood there, looking around the shop.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You blinked, maybe you were dreaming. Maybe your guilt was too much that the male was appearing in your dreams.

"Good afternoon, (y/n) sshi. Is this a bad time? Should I come back at another time?" He asked with a slight tilt of his head, fingers resting on the buttons of his blazer. You shook your head, reaching to get a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"It's fine. What can I help you with?" You came out from behind the counter to properly greet him. He patiently waited as you pulled a chair for him to sit.

"Please, would you like something to drink?" You offered.

"No, I'm fine. Actually, (y/n) sshi, I came to apologise for my reaction during my mother's funeral." He stood back up.

"What? There's nothing for you to apologise for, Hongjoong sshi. I should be the one apologising, I overstepped and said too much. It wasn't appropriate of me." You bowed deeply.

"You didn't overstep at all. Your intentions were good, I reacted poorly." He bowed back.

"No, you're grieving, it's normal." You smiled softly.

"Thank you for understanding." Hongjoong held his hand out but remembered that it was bandaged and cursed under his breath, hiding it and putting his other hand out for you to shake. If you were phased by his injury, you didn't show it. You smiled and slipped your hand into his to shake.

"I should go and let you carry on with your meal." He said once you both let go.

"No, it's fine. You can stay if you'd like." You smiled softly. He let out a small hum and continued to look around your shop, observing all the plants around.

"So, this is where my mother hung out?" He asked, picking up a stalk of rose from your work bench and twirling it.

"Sometimes... She would come for lunch or tea. We would just chat over food." You replied awkwardly.

How much were you supposed to say about Mrs Kim to her own son? You didn't want to sound like you were boasting about your time with her either, that wouldn't do any good.

"I see." He said, placing the flower back down.

"Hongjoong sshi..." You rubbed your arm, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable. Just... The truth is, you know a lot about my mother that I don't. You've spent time with her while I didn't so I can't help but feel curious. My relationship with her wasn't as good as she made it out of be." He informed.

"Oh. Hongjoong sshi, it's not my place to judge you or your relationship with Mrs Kim. Whatever relationship I had with her is vastly different from your own." You said.

"You're very kind, (y/n) sshi." He complimented. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

"I should go." He stood up.

"Wait before you go. Your bandage, do you want me to help you replace it?" You pointed. Hongjoong looked down and saw the blood beginning to seep through.

"It's fine, I shouldn't take up more of your time." He shook his head.

"Not at all. I can help if you'd like." You offered. With a soft sigh, Hongjoong sat back down.

"I'll go get my medical kit. Be right back." You told him and went to the back room to get what you needed. You also took a salve that you usually used for wound care.

"I'm not a doctor but I am first aid certified and I study medical plants in botany so you don't have to worry." You smiled and took a pair of cutters to cut away the bandages that Yeosang had wrapped around Hongjoong's hand. Hongjoong quietly observed you, not saying anything else while you focussed.

"I made this salve for wounds. It should help with soothing the wounds and healing." You explained, cleaning the blood.

"Do you always make your own medicine?" He asked.

"No, I just make simple stuff. I'm still learning." You giggled, tucking your hair behind your ear before applying a thin layer of the salve over the cuts and wounds.

"Does it hurt?" You looked up at him. He shook his head and you sighed in relief.

"You can bring that home with you to apply when you change bandages. I have some more." You explained.

"You do a better job than my brother." Hongjoong said after observing how you properly wrapped a new bandage around his hand and secured it in place.

"You should remove the bandage after 3 days to let the wounds breathe and dry." You said.

The entire time, you never once asked Hongjoong about how he got injured or acted differently. You treated it like any other scrapped knee and healed him. Usually, people would be scared or ask him how he got injured like that.

"Thanks." He looked at his newly bandaged hand.

"You're very welcome. If you see signs of infection or get a fever, go to a doctor." You advised. He nodded and took the small pot of salve, putting it into his pocket.

Will he use it? Probably not. But he saw how dedicated you were and for some reason, didn't want to disappoint you by not taking it.

"Bye, Hongjoong sshi. I'll see you around?" You blinked at your own words, uncertainty in your voice.

"Have a nice day, (y/n) sshi." He didn't address it, merely bowing his head and leaving your shop. You let out a long exhale, feeling like you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Ah!" You suddenly remembered the silk handkerchief that you had washed and in your bag.

"Too distracted." You scratched your head and went to the counter to eat a few more bites of your lunch before you had to reopen.

You were not too bothered that you hadn't returned the handkerchief to Hongjoong. Even if you did feel guilty, you had an inkling that you would be seeing Hongjoong again soon. What ate at you more was how foreign Hongjoong spoke about his mother, like she was a stranger that he didn't know.

"Hongjoong, where are you?"

"I went out to run an errand, Seonghwa. Don't worry, I didn't drive. I got the driver." Hongjoong sighed, sinking into the backseat of the Rolls Royce he was in.

"I'm not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure you didn't do something dumb like blow up a building."

"Geez that happened ONCE, let it go... And I'm going to work, I have to go to my club." Hongjoong said, looking at his bandaged hand.

"You don't have to go back to work right away, Hongjoong. The boys and I can take over while you take a few days. You've needed to take a break for a while."

"I'm the leader of Ateez, Seonghwa. I don't need all of you to take over my work." Hongjoong replied.

"But..."

"Yes, my mother died. But sitting around isn't going to bring her back to life. I still have roles to fulfill, I'm not going to let anyone strike us just because I'm down. There are people counting on us, relying on us." He continued.

"Alright. Stay safe then, Hongjoong. I'll see you at the docks meeting at 5pm?"

"Yeah, thanks Seonghwa. I'll see you later." Hongjoong hummed and hung up. The car stopped before Hongjoong's club and the manager came out, opening the door for him.

"Good afternoon, Mr Kim." The manager bowed. The club wasn't open yet so Hongjoong could get some administrative work done.

"Get me a drink and come up to the office." Hongjoong said, walking into the club.

"Yes, sir." He bowed. Upon his entrance, all the workers stopped and bowed down to greet their boss This was the main club Hongjoong worked out of so they were used to seeing him around.

"Give me 10 minutes. No one is to enter." Hongjoong told the guard who stood by his office door.

"Yes, sir." The guard bowed.

Hongjoong entered his office and sat down in his chair. There were some things he needed to do and catch up on privately, without any interruptions. As the leader of Ateez, he had to keep track of the other Ateez members and their work, on top of his own. But the boys always did their work so it wasn't hard on him.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"S-Sir?" Hongjoong heard the timid voice of the club manager outside his door, making him look up from his phone where he was sending messages to Yunho.

"Has it been 10 minutes?" Hongjoong asked back, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket.

"Yes, sir." The male on the other side replied.

"Come in." Hongjoong said. The door opened and the male came in with his iPad and Hongjoong's whiskey in hand. Hongjoong nodded over to the chair and the manager bowed, taking a seat opposite him.

"Update me." Hongjoong took a sip of his drink. The manager began to update Hongjoong on the business.

"We have been thinking of letting our bartending apprentice go. He had been drinking on the job and getting drunk." He informed.

"Who?" Hongjoong leaned forward.

"This is his profile. The next page has some employee complaints and customer complaints that were logged." The manager informed, pulling up the ex employee's profile and handing it over to Hongjoong to look it over.

"I won't read this, let him go. I won't let anyone be caught lacking in my business. One complaint is as good as ten. Make him compensate for what alcohol he took." Hongjoong instructed.

"Of course, sir." The manager nodded, taking back the iPad and going through the other updates.

"Continue to manage necessary manpower and suppliers to the club. Revenue is still good." Hongjoong told him.

"I will. Thank you for giving me this responsibility, sir." The manager bowed from his seat.

"This is the list of VIPs coming. As usual, make sure they are well taken care of." Hongjoong slid over the list of VIP names and the dates that they would be coming.

"Of course." The manager folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"You can go." With that, Hongjoong waved him off and he left. Hongjoong may seem cold and merciless but he treats his employees right, at least those that do their job well. He is a perfectionist and always wants the best, there shouldn't be anything that's lacking when it came to his business.

"Send Wooyoung and San for that private poker game. That's wheret they'll meet our informant." Hongjoong said to those that were in the group call.

"Oooh, I can get a new suit done." Wooyoung's focus and excitement was obviously on other things.

"What about the governor meeting that's coming up, hyung? Are you going with Seonghwa hyung?" Jongho asked.

"Seonghwa should go with Yunho. They know how to work the charm. Plus the governor's wife seems to favour Yunho." Hongjoong thought out loud, making the other laugh.

"No one can resist that face." Seonghwa chuckled.

"Yunho's ears just turned bright red." Yeosang informed and the others could hear Yunho's yell of protest in the background.

"Wait, what time is Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung settling the issue at the docks? I want to tag along, I could use some action. It'll be fun." Mingi asked.

"Oh! Me too! If Mingi's going, I want to go!" San agreed. Hongjoong could hear Seonghwa wanting to interject but it was ignored. Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never fight the younger ones, they were simply outnumbered.

"You guys always make a mess when you get involved... This time, call your own clean up crew." Seonghwa hissed.

"You gave in way too easily, Seonghwa ah." Hongjoong laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"I already have enough to think about. I have to pick my battles. Plus, if they can handle it for us, I won't risk getting blood on my new coat." Seonghwa said.

~

Series masterlist

[lemondytart]

The Villain... Is a little Stupid.

In a... Good.. way some would say. For someone who claims how evil and villainous you are, your schemes are... Just mostly harmless pranks.

It's adorable really, you're just some gremlin that view themselves differently but it's okay they still love you! They're delusional - though they don't know that - enough to accept your flaws. After all, they're just another part of YOU that they love.

Who are they, you ask? Why, your suitors of course! Though... They weren't ALWAYS your suitors, right?

Carmine Fleuin, a powerful CEO, thought you were annoying at first. You DID ruined his whole moment- okay maybe he's just a little petty and all you did was spill some wine on his expensive outfit. He looked up at you, furious and ready to berate whoever did this to him but you just cackle and ran away before he can even do anything. It took a while for him to start falling for you mostly due to the fact you two only met during events but now he can't help letting out a chuckle when he sees you play a prank on someone.

Dolion Curran, the cashier at the convenience store, just sighs in exasperation. Listen... If you're going to be devious, choose on a day where he's alone or else his boss or his ass-kisser coworker chewing him out on what YOU did. It isn't until one day, you found him smoking under the bus stop and offering him some of your snacks that you carried that after that he thought that maybe you're not so bad. Crazy how a simple act of vulnerability can change a person. He wishes to see that side again. Can you stop stealing from the store though.

Stella Bourne, the baker from your favourite bakery, greets you happily every time she sees you. You may have irked just a pinch whenever you litter in and outside the bakery but you always paid full price for the products and felt guilty enough to pick up your littering when you thought she's not looking even if she technically watching your every move. Oh you're so cute! Maybe you should let her into your heart so you don't have to force this facade that you're keeping up! It's not a facade, you're a gremlin with manners not morals.

Charlie "Charred Drink" Almond, influencer or streamer on the move, is eager to extort that sweet sweet clout whenever he even caught sight of you. It got to the point chat thought you two were dating low-key but pretending to create elaborate scenes and pranks for entertaining the viewers. Hey! You know what would be an amazing idea?? How about you and him make a video about the tips on scoring a date with you as his special guest! Yeah, he's not going to fight the allegations, if anything he's laying on his stomach, rose in mouth, chin on his palms and swinging his legs like a cheerleader ranting to her bestie about her crush for you. Hey, wanna live with him? You'll be amazing for the couple goals trends.

Through cherry tinted glasses they may see but collectively they all agree and know how harmless you are. Maybe you should tell them how you set cars on fire and was charged for arson once.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔢

Billy burn x gn reader

Summary: You and Billy successfully robbed a store on the street, hoping there would be enough things to pay the debts he has accumulated. He doesn’t end up liking some of the tactics you decided to adopt.

Warnings: no pronouns or accurate physical description used towards the reader so that everyone can read. Reader and Billy are engaged. Robbing a place together with Billy <3. Reader and Billy are NOT good persons. Jealous Billy. Smut. Riding. Sex in a car.

Note: This was requested from a really nice person on wattpad. It can be seen as a part 2 of the other story I wrote for Billy but you can very easily read this as a standalone. This is mostly just an excuse for me to leave the link so you can go and like, reblog and comment on both that fic and this one (please) :)

Words count: 4400

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

You and Billy step into the roadside shop, the familiar jingle of the doorbell ringing in your ears. The shop is quite large, with aisles filled with variety of items.

It was like entering a maze.

The only other person present is a young cashier behind the counter, absorbed in his phone. He glances up brietly, offering a nod before returning to his screen.

The air smells fainthy of old wood and cleaning supplics.

To blend in and divert any suspicion, you take Billy's hand and lead him down one of the aisles, your laughter and playful demeanor filling the otherwise quiet space.

“Look at this," you say, picking up a hat from one of the displays.

It started with a high, rounded top that sits proudly on the head. The edges of the top dipped with a curve. It had a wide, sweeping brim that cascaded around the hat.

You place it on Billy's head and adjust it, giggling. It made him appear taller. "It fits perfectly," you tease, your voice light and carefree.

Billy smirks, a shadow of his darker intentions flickering in his eyes as he surveys the layout of the store.

Wandering through the aisles, you make a show of examining various products, occasionally holding up items for Billy's opinion, such as the ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses that you put on, striking a pose that makes Billy chuckle. "What do you think?" you ask, twirling playfully.

His laughter, though genuine, hides the calculating thoughts that race through his mind as he notes the position of the exits and the layout of the aisles.

Your interaction is filled with casual touches and whispered jokes, designed to paint a picture of a couple simply enjoying an impromptu shopping trip.

You passed by the section with bottled drinks. Billy fingers the various brands of alcohol, his gaze lingering on the more expensive ones. "Maybe we should get something nice for tonight," he suggests, a hint of something darker lurking beneath his casual tone.

You throw yourself to him, tossing your arms around his neck to lean in closer to him. “I like the way you think” and he chuckled, his chest vibrating against your body. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, the familiar smell of alcohol and smoke mingling between you.

As you continue to browse, your eyes land on a glass case filled with firearms. Billy notices your gaze and follows it, "Well, well, well,” he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Looks like we hit the jackpot.”

You both approach the glass case, peering inside with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Billy’s fingers trace the outline of a sleek revolver, his eyes studying it with the practiced ease of someone who knows their way around weapons “This one’s a beauty,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

"It's a Smith & Wesson Model 29" you traced your finger along the glass. "It's a classic .44 Magnum revolver. Dirty Harry made it famous, remember?"

Billy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips at your shared interest. "Yeah, it's a powerful piece. Six round cylinder, blued finish, and a wooden grip. As I said, a real beauty."

Your eyes moved to a sleek black pistol. "That's a Glock 19," Billy remarked. "Compact and reliable."

You nodded, adding, "Yeah, it's known for its durability and simplicity. Very easy to use and maintain." You gave him a sidelong glance. "Maybe we should get one for protection. You know, for when you forget our anniversary."

Billy smirked. "Trust me, I've got that date locked in my memory. No need for firepower”

You laughed at his words, your fingers brushing against the glass. “Imagine what we could do with these”

Billy’s eyes meet yours, and a silent understanding passes between you. This could be the answer to his debts, something you’ve both been desperately searching for.

The plan takes shape in your mind, unspoken but clear.

“We need to be smart about this,” Billy says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Let’s see if we can get a better look at the cameras.”

“I’ll take care of distracting him” you nod your head to point to the guy at the checkout.

You reach the counter, where the cashier is still engrossed in his phone. “Hey, how’s your day going?” you ask, striking up a conversation. The cashier looks up, startled, and offers a hesitant smile.

“Not too bad, he replies, setting his phone down. “Just the usual.”

“Must get pretty lonely here sometimes,” you say, leaning slightly against the counter. The cashier’s eyes flicker with interest, and you know you’ve got his attention. You slip off your wedding ring, discreetly tucking it into the pocket of your leather jacket.

Your arms rested on the counter, your head tilted slightly to the right to show interest.

“So, do you work here often?” you ask the cashier, leaning in a little closer. The cashier, caught off guard by your forwardness, straightens up, clearly interested now.

“Yeah, most days,” he says, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “It’s not too bad. Quiet, like you said.”

“Well, you must be good at it,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone. “It’s nice to see a friendly face in a place like this.”

You catch sight of the gun tucked under the counter, realizing just how dangerous this game has become.

Billy, from a distance, watches with narrowed eyes. His jealousy simmers beneath the surface as he watches you flirt, the tone of your voice making his blood boil.

He moves quietly, checking the cameras, his movements swift and efficient. But he can’t focus completely, his thoughts constantly drifting back of to you and the cashier.

The sight of you leaning in closer to the cashier, touching his arm, and laughing at what he was saying gnaws at Billy. He perceives the seething fury taking root within, an overwhelming need to assert his claim over you.

Each smile you give the cashier, each casual touch, feels like a slap to his face.

He tries to concentrate on the cameras, but his mind is a whirlwind of angry thoughts and vivid images of the cashier making a move on you.

His heart pounds with a mix of anger and desire, each beat a reminder of how much he hates seeing you with another man, even if it’s all part of the plan.

The cashier, emboldened by your attention, smiles more confidently. “I try,” he says, his eyes flicking to your lips briefly. “So, what brings you two here?”

“We’re just passing through,” you say, giving him a playful smile. “Needed to stretch our legs, maybe pick up a few things.”

Billy moves to the other side of the store, he noticed a few security cameras mounted in the corners and made mental notes of their positions.

He noticed a door marked “Employees Only” at the back and figured it might lead to an office or storage room. He also spotted a small emergency exit near the back, which could be useful for a quick getaway.

The cameras are all over the most valuable stuff. If you and him really want to get what you need, you will get caught.

He can’t stop glancing over, watching you with a mix of frustration and desire.

You’re just wasting time talking to that idiot. It would be much better if you came back to his side to discuss a new plan.

You’re not even glancing over at him to see if there are any possible signals he could be giving you.

Why are you so interested in talking to that prick?

He clenches his jaw, trying to suppress the urge to storm over and put an end to the conversation.

“You seem like an interesting guy.” you continue, leaning even closer. “Do you do anything else besides working here?”

The cashier chuckles nervously, “Not much.”

You nod, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I get that. It’s hard out there. But you must have some fun, right? Maybe a little adventure now and then?”

Billy clenches his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He imagines the cashier’s hands on you, the way he looks at you with that smug, interested expression.

It makes his vision blur with anger.

“Adventure, huh?” the cashier says, his interest clearly piqued “Well, I suppose I could use a bit more of that in my life.”

You smile, your hand lingering on his arm. “Everyone needs a little adventure.”

The dam of his patience crumbled, and a torrent of possessive fury washed over him, leaving no room for pretense or patience.

He strides over, his presence a dark storm cloud. The cashier looks up, surprise and fear mingling in his eyes as Billy pulls out his revolver and points it directly at him.

“Don’t even think about it!” Billy yells, his voice shaking with anger. The cashier freezes, his face going pale.

Billy’s eyes flick to you, and for a moment, you see the struggle in his gaze. The raw intensity of his emotions is laid bare, and it sends a thrill through you.

The cashier takes advantage of the moment of distraction, lunging for his hidden weapon.

Driven by instinct, you swiftly pull the gun concealed by your leather jacket and press it firmly against the cashier’s back. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ you command, your voice steady and teeth clenched.

Gradually, your gaze drifts back to your husband.

His stance is unyielding, his jaw set firmly, and his eyes burn with a fierce storm of emotions.

It’s evident that the anger brewing within him is barely restrained, like a tempest held back by the most delicate of barriers.

He likely recognized his own error, fueling his anger even further than before.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing?" you hiss, your voice a mix of frustration and annoyance. "I had everything under control”

Billy's face contorts with anger. "Under control? It looked like you were just enjoying talking to the guy! I'm not going to stand here and watch him try to take advantage of you."

"Are you serious? I was distracting him so we could get what we need and get out. You just made things a hundred times worse!" You feel your own anger bubbling up, your grip on the situation slipping through your fingers.

As the argument escalates, the cashier sees his chance. His hand darts towards the panic button on the counter, moving with a desperate speed.

Billy notices the movement out of the corner of his eye, his rage reaching a boiling point.

"You son of a bitch," Billy shouts, his voice echoing through the shop. In one swift motion, he brings the back of his gun down hard on the cashier's forehead. The sound of the impact is sickening, a dull thud followed by the man's groan of pain as he crumples to the floor, blood trickling down his face.

For a moment, the shop is eerily silent, the only sound being the cashier's labored breathing. You stand there, stunned, the reality of what just happened settling over you like a heavy fog.

Billy is breathing hard, his eyes wild with a mix of adrenaline and fury.

"You see what you made me do?" he snaps, kicking the unconscious man to vent even more of his anger. "If you hadn't been playing around, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Playing around? I was trying to save us!" you retort. "You're the one who lost control!"

Billy's eyes flash dangerously, but he doesn't respond.

The shop feels oppressive, the air thick with tension and fear.

"You get the recordings, I'll get the goods," he commands, his voice edged with urgency.

Nodding, you rush to the back of the store where the security system is likely housed. You find a small office, the door ajar.

Inside, monitors display various angles of the store, showing both live feeds and recorded footage. The setup is relatively simple, a standard digital video recorder with a console for playback and deletion.

Your fingers fly over the controls, navigating the system to locate the recordings from the last 24 hours. You start the deletion process, each second feeling like an eternity. The progress bar slowly moves, and you pray silently that no one will interrupt this crucial task.

Meanwhile, Billy moves methodically through the store, gathering everything that could help settle your debt with the bikers. He takes firearms first, loading them into a duffel bag he found behind the counter. Next, he grabs several bottles of expensive liquor, knowing they can be sold or traded.

He doesn't stop there, he also collects cash from the register, and grabs valuable electronics and even some jewelry that was on display near the counter. His actions are swift and precise, driven by a combination of desperation and a keen sense of survival.

Back in the office, the deletion process is finally complete. You breathe a sigh of relief as the system confirms that all recordings from the last 24 hours have been erased. You quickly disable the cameras to prevent any future recordings, ensuring there will be no evidence left behind.

With your task done, you return to the main area of the store. Billy is zipping up the duffel bag, his face a mask of grim determination. "Got everything we need?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Billy nods. "We need to move, now."

Together, you make your way to the exit, your footsteps echoing in the now eerily silent store. As you step outside, the cool night air hits you, providing a stark contrast to the tension-filled interior you just left.

The car is parked nearby, and you both hurry towards it, the weight of your actions pressing heavily on your shoulders.

You slide into the passenger seat, the duffel bag of stolen goods clutched tightly in your lap. Billy starts the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckled intensity.

The car roars down the desolate road, its engine a low, constant growl that fills the otherwise silent night.

The stolen goods rattling softly in the backseat serve as a stark reminder of the desperate act you both just committed.

Hours have passed by this point and the adrenaline from the robbery still courses through your veins, mingling with a complex mix of relief and anxiety.

Outside, the dark landscape stretches endlessly, broken only by the occasional silhouette of a distant tree or a flickering roadside light.

You glance at Billy, his face a rigid mask of determination and suppressed fury, illuminated only by the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.

Determined to lighten the mood, you reach over and rest a hand on his arm. "We did it, Billy. We got what we needed. This is going to help us a lot," you say, trying to inject some optimism into your voice.

He nods curtly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Yeah, okay."

His brusque response stings, but you try again, your voice bright and hopeful."I mean, we did a good job despite all the shit that happened, don't you think?"

Billy mutters another "okay," his tone clipped and distant.

Frustration starts to build within you, each unacknowledged attempt at conversation feeling like a brick being added to a wall between you. The silence is oppressive, pressing down on you with every mile that passes.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "Billy, pull over," you demand, your voice edged with urgency.

He glances at you, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Why?" he snaps, clearly exasperated.

"Just do it," you insist. With an angry huff, he swerves the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel as he comes to a stop. The engine cuts off, plunging you into a profound silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night.

Billy leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. "What?" he growls, his voice laced with frustration and a simmering anger that hasn't dissipated since the robbery.

You turn to face him fully, searching his eyes for any sign of the man you know beneath the hard exterior. "Are you angry with me for flirting with that guy?" you ask, your voice soft but insistent.

Billy doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with the practiced ease of a habit formed over years.

The orange glow of the cigarette tip casts fleeting shadows over his face, emphasizing the hard lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He takes a deep drag, the smoke curling around him like a shroud.

"Do you know why I did it?" you press on, refusing to let the silence grow any thicker. "I was trying to distract him. It was part of the plan. I thought you understood that."

Billy exhales a cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he looks away from you, out into the darkness. The silence stretches out, thick and oppressive.

Frustration bubbles over, and you decide to push him a little further.

“It's a shame how things ended, though," you say, your tone teasing but edged with real frustration. "He was kind of cute."

Billy's head snaps toward you, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

Finally he is talking to you.

You raise your hands in a mock gesture of surrender, though your heart pounds in your chest. "I'm just saying, maybe things could have gone differently if you hadn't lost your temper. We might have avoided the whole confrontation."

Billy's jaw clenches even tighter, and he takes another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling in the confined space of the car. "So now it's my fault?" he mutters, his voice tinged with hurt and anger.

You sigh, your teasing smile fading as the gravity of the situation settles over you. "That's not what I meant, Billy. I just... I want to know why you're so angry with me. We got what we needed. We're okay, for now."

He stares at you for a long moment, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something more complex: hurt, betrayal, and a deep-seated fear.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently in a gesture of reassurance. "You won't lose me, Billy. We're in this together. But we need to be on the same page. We need to trust each other."

He finally looks back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and determination. "I do trust you," he says, his voice steadier now. "I just... I need to get better at showing it."

You smile, relief flooding through you at his words.

Billy extinguished the cigarette and tossed it out the window. He leans over and kisses you, the taste of smoke still lingering on his lips. The kiss is intense, filled with a renewed sense of connection and understanding.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him more fully. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. His grip is firm but not harsh, a silent declaration that you are his and he is yours.

As you rested in his arms, the physical tension between you began to transform into a palpable, almost electric energy, drawing you closer to him with an undeniable pull.

Billy's hands explored your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch igniting a trail of heat across your skin. He traced the curve of your spine, then moved to your sides, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there, eliciting a soft gasp from you. The contact was electrifying, each touch a reminder of the deep connection you shared.

Billy's hands traveled to your hips, his grip tightening as he guided you closer. You could feel the growing urgency in his touch, mirrored by the heat pooling in your own body. You moved together with a practiced ease, your bodies responding instinctively to each other. He shifted beneath you, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly.

You raised your arms, allowing him to pull it off, and then his hands were on you again, explorin, caressing.

He shifted slightly, his other hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. His gaze was intense, locking with yours as he leaned in for a kiss, his lips parting yours, his tongue exploring with a gentle insistence.

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jacket as you pulled him closer. The air between you grew warmer, charged with a mixture of urgency and tenderness.

Billy's hands move to your face, his touch both gentle and possessive, as if he is afraid to let go, afraid to lose this moment.

Billy's breath hitches as you shift on his lap, your hips finding a rhythm that mirrors the beat of your hearts. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never fully capture.

His hands grip your waist with a possessive strength, guiding your movements with a blend of tenderness and urgency. "You're perfect," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl that vibrates through you, adding to the symphony of sensations coursing through your body.

You respond with equal fervor, Your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt.

You tugged at the fabric, pulling it over his head, and he helped you, discarding the garment to the side. His skin was warm under your touch, the contours of his body familiar and comforting.

You pressed closer, your lips finding his again in a fervent kiss, your bodies aligning perfectly.

Billy's lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was deliberate, a silent declaration of his love and desire.

Billy's eyes roamed over you, his gaze filled with a mixture of reverence and desire.

His thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He responded with a growl, his mouth descending to capture one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against you.

Your hands found their way to his belt, your fingers working with a sense of urgency to unbuckle it. You undid his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans, your hands slipping inside to free him from the confines of the fabric.

Billy groaned as you touched him, his hips lifting slightly to help you slide his jeans and boxers down. You moved with a sense of purpose, your hands and lips exploring every inch of his exposed skin.

He pulled you closer, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a firm, insistent pull. You helped him, discarding the last barrier between you.

In the confined space of the car, every movement was magnified, every touch more intense. Billy's hands took hold of your hips again, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You could feel the heat of him, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down onto him, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect union of bodies and souls.

You gasped at the feeling, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

You began to move together, a slow, rhythmic dance of passion and love. Each movement was a testament to your bond, a physical manifestation of the deep connection you shared.

You could feel every inch of him inside you, every thrust a reminder of his love, his need, his desire. The pace quickened, the urgency between you growing.

You rode him with a fervent intensity, your hands gripping his shoulders, his hips lifting to meet yours with each thrust.

The pleasure gradually intensified, building up like a symphony reaching its peak. Each wave of sensation stacked upon the last, growing stronger and more compelling.

He guided you with his rough and large hands, matching your movements with his own.

The tension building, the edge of release drawing closer with each thrust, each touch, each kiss.

When the climax came, it was a shattering wave of pleasure, a culmination of everything you felt for each other.

You cried out, your body tensing, then releasing in a flood of sensation. Billy followed, his own release a powerful, primal groan, his hands gripping you tightly as he found his own peak.

In the aftermath, you collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you, a silent promise of protection and love.

It’s just you and Billy against the world, together, unbreakable, with nothing but the open road and a shared dream of freedom stretching out before you.

Note: if you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Stories where you get to play the part of the bad guy are some of my favorites

[kenthoescore]

💮 Blush Ice – Geto Suguru.

synopsis. Geto Suguru never thought that the smell of mentholated lychee vapes would get his cock hard and throbbing that is until the soft chime of his vape shop doors opened. part 2 here.

tags. geto as a vape shop owner, fem!reader, age gap (suguru is 28, reader is 21), mutual pinning, pervert!suguru, substance abuse, heavy mentions of smoking, vapes, and nicotine, explicit content. word count: 1.8k

note. not proofread, for the life of mine I cannot edit right now. part 2 will be posted soon. credits to: cafekitsune for the mdni banner.

You were going crazy.

It has been a full week since you promised to yourself to quit vaping. You were getting out of your mind, full bags of lollipops were sprawled across the table as you stared at them in hopes of fighting back your nicotine withdrawals.

Fuck my life.

The events of your life were not helping either, your grades getting below the average, the amount of stress the last year of college was slowly getting to you just as you decided to quit, and more importantly the fucking rent was due and you were not paid yet from your part-time job.

Your hands desperately inches to a cola flavored lollipop, and popping them into your gloss covered lips. Licking the sweetness and sucking it in hopes that it will satisfy you.

Unfortunately, it didn’t.

You’ve reached your breaking point. The dull thud of the lollipop hitting the end of the bin as it was rendered useless as you threw it out. Fast steps echoed in the empty apartment as you rushed to your room, feeling the soft fabric of the carpet as you knelt down and pulled at the small hidden box under your wardrobe.

Your eyes twinkle as you finally spot the magenta colored pod, bringing it to your mouth as you take your first hit of the week, breaking the one-week long streak. Mentholated sweetness dragging down your throat as you inhaled, you closed your eyes and fell back into the floor.

“That’s the shit.”

You muttered to yourself, exhaling the white smoke out of your lungs and mouth. The room slowly being filled by fumes and lychee scented nicotine. You took another hit, then another, and another.

Until you notice the bitterness slowly creeping into your taste buds. With your head mildly spinning and your body growing heavier under unseen weight being pushed to you, you exhale.

“This is not the shit.”

Out of all the fucking time it could’ve burned. It chose this day. You threw the pod to the side, clutching your head as the world began to spin rapidly and your body heavier than a thousand rocks. You had to make a trip to the vape shop. Unfortunately for you, the shop which was just a few blocks down your street closed almost a week ago.

Which was, to be honest, the reason you swore to quit. But you had no extra money left to buy a new one.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck.”

Suguru exhaled, smirking to himself as he placed multiple new boxes on the glass cabinet. Restocking the supplies of nicotine to his shop. Thick smoke flying freely in the air as he took a hit of his own, intoxicating sweetness from the multiple nicotine products seeping outside the box of freshly purchased vapes.

Eccentric and detailed tattoos decorated his hands up to his forearm, his hair neatly pulled back into a bun, and a few strands spilling out in front. He continued to refill his store, pulling boxes and boxes of vapes out of one large container, muscles flexing and veins popping through his tank top.

His eyes peeked up as he bent down, the soft chime of the door grabbing his attention. A small gentle smile creeping its way up to his lips.

“How may I help you, sweetheart?”

Suguru hums, his words like satin, smooth and gentle as he stands up straight. Meeting the eyes of the new customer, which was you. He tilts his head ever so slightly taking in your appearance, memorizing your eyes and the way your eyes searched and looked around his shop. His observant eyes grazed curiously at you.

“You looking for somethin’?”

He added. Walking towards the counter where it separates you and him, leaning over the glass. The black piercing in his ear shining under the light. There was one thing that rang through your mind, he was fucking gorgeous.

Maybe the trip half way through town was worth it.

“Just a new disposable, please.”

Suguru nods, and smiles softly at you. Your breath catches up in your throat at how seemingly gentle this man was despite the littered tattoos on his arms. God, he was like a breath of fresh air.

“Any flavors in mind?”

Your eyes wander around the glass containers, black boxes with disposables as its cover. Blue, red, pink, yellow colored ones, almost every flavor you could imagine. You smile back at him, your eyes boring into his. His eyes were like an endless deep dark chasm.

“You have recommendations? Don’t say lychee ice or watermelon, please.”

He raised an eyebrow at you as he walked across the counter, pulling out a laminated card with all the flavors he had. Amusement carved into his pretty features, a smile crawled up to his lips. His curiosity about you intensified.

“You seem like the type to pick blush ice over and over again.” He joked, a smirk playing in his lips as he gave you the card. “You smell like lychee.” He added, shooting you a playful smile.

Your fingers brushed lightly against his as you accepted it. Suguru could not keep his eyes off of you. You gave him a smile, heart beginning to pound in your chest.

“Do I?” Suguru laughs at your reply, deep and raspy. He put one of his hands in his pockets, standing taller than you as he straightened up.

“Just a little bit, sweetheart.” He mused, averting his eyes to the card.

“D’you like fruity ones or pastry?” His fingers reached over the card, silver rings adorned his slender fingers as they slid from left to right.

“Fruity ones.” He nods, fingers pausing against the column of fruit flavored ones.

“Try mixed berries.” Pointing at a purple pod fading into white at the top. “Or grape soda.” he continues, his fingers dragging further down into the card, stopping at a purple pod darkening up at the bottom. His fingers merely a few inches away from your tits.

His fingers were distractingly pretty, your eyes following his every move.

“What do you think?” He asks, his fingers dropping to the counter, he leans back down. His dark hair astray from the clean bun brushing against the side of his temple.

Your eyes settled on the grape soda, a new flavor you haven’t tried.

Lowering the card on the counter, it landed with a soft thwack of the glass. Your mind swirled with thoughts. Was it really smart to spend your last money on some nic? Could it really be that bad to wait for a few days? You sighed. It was extremely careless to spend the last bucks for a disposable when you can get the roof on your head ripped away.

“Nevermind.” You gave him a polite smile, “I’ll have to wait a few days to get a new one.”

Suguru’s head tilted, he was all too familiar with situations like this. Normally, he would smile, nod and let the customer be on their way but he couldn’t do that. Not when he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was inappropriate for him to fantasize about a customer, even worse, with someone he didn’t even know the name of.

But, God, you were fucking hot.

He cannot walk let you walk out of the store, no. He needed to make sure you would walk back in his shop.

“Say what, sweetheart. I’ll give you this one and you can just give me your old one. Safer for the environment than to just throw it out.”

Suguru was spitting things out now, despite the screams in his thoughts. He could potentially lose money, not that he didn’t have plenty. You could run away with it and never show your face again but he was willing to take a gamble. He was positive he was beginning to look like a creep in your eyes.

You were not. It was like the heavens gave you a fucking blessing as he offered it.

“Are you serious?” Your voice is laced with excitement and disbelief.

He nods, his hands opening the glass counter and pulling out a black box. It was the disposable he suggested. He had noticed the way your eyes landed on the grape soda a while ago, his eyes never missing a detail.

“As serious as you want me to.” He played it cool, taking a step back at his advances. The gentle smile showed up again in his features.

“I can’t possibly, what if I don’t show up again?”

Suguru chuckles, pushing the box to you, stopping a few inches to your hands.

“Then too bad, I can’t see your pretty face ‘round here no more.”

You grabbed the box, it had a little weight to it. Your eyes shifted from his then back to the box. Guilt settling in your stomach as the man offered it. Suguru leans it closer, you could smell the menthol coming out of his breaths, a pleasant scent you could get intoxicated in.

“Trust me, baby. You can take it.” He whispered.

His hands slithering to hold yours. Eyes piercing into you as his eyes dropped to your lips.

You could feel the tension, the building heat in your core as he inches closer. The thick nicotine in the air makes you feel dizzy as you look into his eyes, he lets out a short deep chuckle as if he was taunting you. His eyes snap back into yours hazed with lust.

“T-thanks.”

Your voice shakes, sucking in a deep inhale. You had to fight every urge in your body to not smash your lips against his and sink to your knees to give the man a blowjob as thanks, lips closing around on his cock as your hands pump the parts you can’t fit in your tiny mouth.

He backs up, the smile still on his lips. He cleared his throat and took a hit of his vape.

If he would dare, he would kiss your lips right now and wrap a hand around your pretty throat decorating it with his own marks. Fuck you right there in the shop where the tinted windows would do a decent job of hiding the both of you, bend you over the counter while his hands would take a hold of your hips and keep you in your place.

Maybe he would slip a finger or two in your mouth as he whispers filthy words into your ears.

But not today.

“No problem, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet.

He then turns around quickly, hiding the print of his dick through his pants as it gets tighter and tighter the more you stand near his presence. He clears his throat, his face doing a good job of covering the dirty thoughts he had of you.

“See you ‘round.”

With a shuddering breath, you step out of the shop. The newly purchased, or should you say given? Vape in your hand. You were certainly going back in there.

Maybe get in cashless, and offer your pussy that was making a mess in your underwear for a smoke.

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.  

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over. 

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink. 

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.  

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question. 

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.  

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object. 

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.   

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.  

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional. 

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him. 

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him. 

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers. 

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either. 

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters. 

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong. 

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation. 

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst. 

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again. 

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.” 

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.  

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”  

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

Copyright © 2023 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.

[elftism]

Some thoughts from the intervallo checkup

(these were written out as I was experiencing it so might edit things later or be wrong about other things) (I only reached stage 10 before I ran out of enk lol so I'll finish this later)

- yooo envy peccatulum fight

- considering the P Corp explanation, I'm convinced that the shelter from the 27th of March was based on how people viewed their corps' products or at least something relating to it (edit: shelter's abno story directly mentions a 'company P' so this is definitely the case)

- Donnie asking about p Corp and making Faust nervous omg

- I want to hear the rest of that story Sinclair

- in general I'm glad we know that storing people in dimensional bags is bad at least but I want to know exactly what happens

- I wonder if the big event that causes us to go to the outskirts later down the line will be a smoke war 2.0 about W corp

- hoenheim looks exactly how I thought he would lol. His assistants (Marton and Alyssa) look cool

- limbus really does seem like they want to be Lobcorp 2.0, considering they have an extraction dept. Wonder when they'll get an architecture dept

- Donnie winning in association knowledge THAT'S MY GIRL WOOOO

- Donnie trying to stand on her tippy toes lmfao

- GREGOR TRYING TO LOOK COOL W THE CIG LMFAO

- get his ass Faust

- HEATHCLIFF WE WONNN WOO poor ishy

- those jackets do look comfy ngl...

- the anime glasses I'm trying so hard not to laugh rn I don't want to bother my dorm roomie

- everyone being nerfed to Sinclair's level rip lmao

- the stage 3 sloth peccatulum is so tanky holy shit

EDIT: I CLEARED THE INVERVALLO NOW

- holy shit sancho fight. This intervallo has been so good for lore. Though, I've seen people calling Sancho basically a first kindred now, but that's really not the case. Kindred is a term for genealogy or something similar - she's two degrees of separation from the progenitor, so she's still a second kindred. She's just basically dealing with the bloodlust that every other la mancha kindred would have if they were alive, combined

- poor yi sang.... Thought he was the strongest

- Hoenheim's distortion was super cool - it's nice to see that some L Corp employees managed to recover after lobcorp fell (though I guess he wasn't like a standard nugget or clerk or anything). Also! He was part of Malkuth's team/control team!

- this music goes hard

- the map/ chapter stage select screen has a picture of Donnie with a CENSORED over it lol, and rociante on the floor

- near the dungeon that blurry shillouette in the map/stage select looks like carmen, maybe?

- new classification scheme is nice, tells us a lot about abnos and distortions

- "we don't want heathcliff to be like heathcliff" lmao Ishmael

- uhhh that gregor tidbit at the end hello? Will be fun to see how this is relevant later on

- also, fun to see in the dungeon how one of the event nodes mentioned the carvings on the walls of L Corp lol

- oh and! The eye watching you during distorted Hoenheim's fight was sick

Good intervallo can't wait for the sweepers intervallo next

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for cooking meth with my former chemistry student, killing two people, and lying to my family about it?

I (50M) was recently diagnosed with inoperable, likely fatal lung cancer. I work at a highschool as a chemistry teacher, but both the pay and the students are terrible. Case in point, my "lab partner" (24M) - who we'll call "Cap'n" because of course he'd insist on a stupid nickname like that - not only completely flunked my class, but then went on to skip college entirely and become a meth-addicted drug dealer instead.

Understandably, I was a little shaken after receiving my diagnosis. It came as a surprise since I've never smoked, I keep myself in relatively fair health, etc. (Recently my wife has taken to vegan bacon- apparently it helps lower cholesterol, but I digress.) I haven't told my family about the situation yet; I'm still trying to figure out how to "let the cat out of the bag", not to mention I doubt my wife will take it very well.

As for deciding to try cooking methamphetamine, well. I'm not really sure how to explain it, exactly, but there's a lot of money in it, money that would benefit my family, and I don't have much to lose anymore. This may sound cliche, but it's as though I'm really awake for the first time in my life.

Cap'n and I formed a partnership by circumstance only; I found out he was in "the business" and offered to either turn him into the DEA or work with me, and he naturally took the second option. He had no idea what he was doing on the chemistry side of things - chili powder in the meth! applying heat to an Erlenmeyer flask! no wonder I flunked him, he clearly learned nothing in my class - but does know the trade.

(Note: Don't buy all of your supplies from the same store.)

Sorry, I'm getting too far into the weeds here, let me skip ahead. We purchased a trailer and drove out to somewhere in the middle of the desert to cook without added attention or need for dramatic cleanup if we had to leave the area in a hurry. Our first batch was, according to Cap'n, "pure glass." After all of that complaining, I had cooked the finest product he'd ever seen on the first try! Goes to show paying attention in school does pay off, ahem. In case any of you were reading this and thinking of skipping off to go and make highly illegal substances and risk years in prison instead of doing your homework. You all still have your entire lives ahead of you. I don't.

After making it, the next logical course of action was to sell. Cap'n said he had some connections - I mean, he is a drug dealer, I saw no reason not to trust him (I now see how little sense that makes.) - and came back with two men with guns pointed at both of us. You must understand, it was a kill or be killed situation. These are the kind of people who don't care about morals, or what's right or ethical or kind. If they'd lived... not just me, but my wife, my son, and my entire family would all be in serious, mortal danger. I had no choice.

Cap'n by this point had been knocked out cold- still alive, but entirely unhelpful with the situation at hand. I was on my own. So I offered to show the goons how I made the "glass", surely they wanted to see how it was done? And they did- I still can't believe that actually worked. But, ah, instead of actually cooking anything, I gave them... let's call it a chemistry lesson. When significant heat is applied to red phosphorus - a key ingredient in Cap'n and I's "extracurricular science project" - it oxidizes. Your result is phosgene gas, highly deadly, hence the "killing two people." One... technically isn't dead yet- somehow he managed to survive, I still don't fully understand how, but I'm... I'm working on it. Cap'n still has yet to get rid of the first body, so... technically I'm not failing to withhold my share of the cleanup, since he hasn't done so with his.

I realize now this is very long, but I wanted to explain the context for my actions. However, a tl;dr for those who might be in a hurry: I was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, so with nothing else to lose decided to try to make some money for my family by cooking and selling methamphetamine. Coincidentally, a former student of mine was also in the business, and I convinced him to work with me. When we tried to put our product on the market, two people tried to kill us, so I acted in self-defense.

But I really, really must know... is what I did wrong? Should I have been content to live the rest of however-long-I-have-left working a miserable job as a public high school chemistry teacher instead? Should I have found a less fatal way of dealing with the two men who tried to kill me and my partner? AITA?

P.S. It's pretty late as I'm typing this so I might've made some errors in coherency or grammar, for which I apologize.

[prep4tomoro]

Survival Uses of Chewing Gum:

Go into any grocery store, gas station, convenience store and you’re going to find packs and packs of chewing gum. What used to be considered a candy, has now become a health food (of sorts) as gum makers have moved to create gum that’s healthy for your teeth, won’t cause health issues and may be made to address a specific benefit like staying awake (caffeinated). While chewing gum isn’t on the same level as a water filter or a camping stove, you’ll find that keeping some of this stored in your survival kit or bug out bag is a worthwhile addition. How can Chewing Gum Help You Survive?

Scientifically proven to alleviate anxiety and stress, lowering Cortisol.

Fights fatigue and improve mental alertness.

Enhances working memory and brain performance.

Improves concentration.

Boosts morale and energy.

Aids digestion by increasing the salivary flow.

Quenches thirst and prevents "dry mouth" by stimulating saliva.

Suppresses an appetite to lose weight or when eating is not convenient.

A sticky substance to bind things together and fill gaps.

Fishing lure.

Fishing bobber/float (Survivorman, Georgia Swamp, S1E4).

Bartering tool.

Promotes oral health by breaking down food particles brushing can't reach

Prevents watering eyes while slicing onions.

A fine addition as composting material.

Freshens Breath.

Combats acid reflux, nausea and dizziness.

Curbs addictions (like smoking and eating)

Start a Fire with Foil Gum Wrapper and Battery

Removes "Earworms" (a song or thought stuck in your head).

Chewing Gum Removal: During a visit from a very prankish young friend of mine, I fed him lunch on an unfinished wooden tray so he could eat while watching TV. He was chewing gum before I fed him and he removed the gum from his mouth and placed it on the edge of the glass plate of food. I thought that was very responsible of him. After he was finished eating, he placed the tray and plate on my kitchen counter. When he left my house, I began cleaning up after him and when I "tried" to move the tray, it was stuck to my kitchen counter with the wad of gum he had, formerly, placed on the plate. Fortunately, the gum was easy to remove from the kitchen counter but not the wooden tray. From previous chewing gum encounters, I knew that freezing gum helps remove it so I put the tray into my freezer for about an hour and was able to remove most of the giant wad but not all; a thin layer remained. So I went on the web to search for removal solutions. My solution was to use several strips of Duct Tape (sticky side), rubbed over the gum residue, to pull up much of it then Acetone to remove the rest. There is a chewing gum ban at my house for this young man.

Related Resources: Chewing Gum Facts What to Know About Chewing Gum Health Benefits of Chewing Gum Recycle Gum into Other Useful Products Discover Chewing Gum’s Crazy Survival Uses

[11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [Immediate Steps to Take When Disaster Strikes] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [P4T Main Menu]

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[otterlyfoolish]

No Smoking Indoors

(Shiba Togo x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of war, Possibly OOC, not edited

Tags: Small Age Gap, unrequited crush, its like really subtle though

Word Count: 3k

Summary:

Cafe Haru Haru has all sorts of people. Typically, you'd usually find people that's skilled in combat visiting the most for work. So it really shouldn't surprise Shiba to see a fellow war veteran there.

If you like Ao3 for reading fics more, here!

-----

Café Haru Haru is a café. Obvious, right?

You can buy coffee, you can get tea, you can get some sweet treats if the owner remembered to restock it for that day, otherwise you can settle for some sort of fruit juice she has in a little fridge under the counter. (Which is most of the time, since she tends to snack on her own products.)

From the decoration, you might think that its kind of like a bar, but there's no alcohol being served there - the wine glasses on the shelves are mostly for decoration. You can tell by the dust on the shelves - it might have been used to serve drinks once, but now it sits there solely to reflect the warm lighting and any sunlight it catches. It's probably for the best considering the main purpose of the business though.

It's not just a café, because if it was, it would be out of business extraordinarily fast. The main function is that it connects sorcerers to paying clients, and collects a fee. Typically it's yakuza looking for a little more firepower (sometimes literally,) or some blood thirsty fool that doesn't know any other way of life.

With a ring of the bell from the front of the store, it lets the owner know that someone's come in, whether it's a client looking for some protection, or a violent guard dog, she welcomes them in with a idle smile, hoping that its something more exciting this time.

"Excuse us!" The man yells out, already treating the place like a second home as he saunters in, the younger man next to him following closely as he gives him a blank stare.

"Ah, Shiba." She dejects with something of a scowl, leaning on the counter with a slump in her shoulders. "I'm busy right now, sit down and I'll get to you." She waves at him dismissively then shoots Chihiro a warmer greeting: "Hey, you look cool today as well, Chihiro!" To which she get a slow nod of confusion in response. Shiba glances between the two of them, the preferential treatment clear as day.

The two of them sit down at the stools, staying quiet as they glance over to Hinao explaining the details of a job to another customer - this was uncommon, they've never really been around seeing her handle her customers.

The customer has been served a cup of coffee (something Shiba and Chihiro had to always make themselves), and sat silently at the counter, reading over information Hinao had handed them. With a small thank you from them, Hinao nodded and then walked away, greeting Shiba now.

"So! What do you need?" She asks, leaving her customer to their own devices as she slides over to her regulars, hands flat on the table. "Need another job, Shiba? I got a couple, you might like." She says, "or just checking up on intel?"

"Just dropping by Tokyo." He answers simply, "but while I'm here, thought I'd also just ask you, how's it going on that front?"

"Bad." She sighs, looking out the window with a shoulders slumped. "I got nothing. Nada."

"Ah." He mouths back, while Chihiro lowers his gaze towards the counter, his face remaining as stoic as ever. Shiba had a feeling that the teen was pretty disappointed at the news though. "Well, let me see the job listings then. I'll check it out if it sounds promising."

"Sure, just wait 'till they're done." Hinao nods back at him, putting her hands into her coat pocket, using her head to motion towards the only other person in the room. "They've got the nice juicy ones right now. 'course, I've other ones if you're looking for something easier for a old man like you."

Shiba ignores that last jab. "Huh, really?" He utters back in response with a eyebrow raised - usually Hinao tried to pair up the difficulty to the person so her customers wouldn't be disappointed. If they've got the 'juicy' ones, that meant that they've got the high-risk, high-reward offers.

She nods back at Shiba, about to say something more before her other customer placed the papers down on the counter, waiting patiently for Hinao to speak to them again with their hands folded on the counter. Shiba glanced over again towards them as Hinao walked back over, discussing the details with the sorcerer.

"I'd like to take this one, please." They say holding one in particular. Their voice made Shiba's ears perk up.

"Okay, I'll give them a call, and we can arrange a meeting sometime." Hinao says, marking it down in a little notepad under the counter before grabbing the pile of job offers, sliding it over to Shiba. He didn't catch it, seemingly frozen as he looked across the room, leaving Chihiro to stop the pile of paper before it hit the floor.

"Thank you." They nodded back in response to Hinao who walked over to the rotary phone, humming absentmindedly as she rung the customer, one hand in her coat pocket.

"Mr Shiba," Chihiro starts out, trying to get his attention as Shiba still seemed to be frozen in his seat.

"Huh? Yeah, what's up, Chihiro?" He snapped out of it, glancing back at him as Chihiro fixed the pile of paper.

"The job listings you asked for." Chihiro answered simply, putting them in front of Shiba in a neat pile.

"Ah, thanks." He nodded, then turned his face back to the other side, looking at the only other customer again. Chihiro joined in, blinking at the two of them with a blank expression, but it was obvious he was wondering why Shiba seemed so interested in this other person. Slowly, he moved his hand to rest on the hilt of Enten, his eyes narrowing in anticipation, glancing over to Hinao, and made some mental calculations in his mind.

There didn't seem to be anything unusual about them - they seemed to be a pretty normal person overall, so Chihiro isn't sure what Shiba is picking up on. He's just trying to follow Shiba's lead. Then, there was finally movement.

The person from across the room pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out as they waited for Hinao to finish the deal for them. At the sight of them taking out the little box, she narrowed her them and shooed them out of her store, motioning towards the 'NO SMOKING' sign.

They nodded, then slowly made their way out. They seemed to have expected to be ushered out of the room. Choosing to wait outside as Hinao stayed on the phone, still discussing the details with her client.

Shiba's eyes followed them as they walked past him and Chihiro, still not even bothering to give either of them a single glance as they pulled the door open and walked out, standing outside for their smoke.

Chihiro blinked in confusion, then moved his hands back to his sides.

Shiba was quick to move after this. "Chihiro, you stay here and look through the pile, I'm going to have a smoke." He says, getting up from the stool, readjusting his shirt to look messier as he walked out.

"Mr Shiba, you ran out of cigarettes." Chihiro answers back, watching him walk out the door without another word from him. Chihiro blinked at the sight of him walking up to the stranger before turning to the pile of paper on the counter and reading through it carefully like he was told to.

-----

"There's a first for everything, huh?" A masculine voice calls out to you as you light your cigarette. You already knew who it was, so you didn't bother looking up as you took a deep breath as you let him continue speaking. "Never seen you in trouble before."

He looked at you as you slid the lighter back into your pockets, your eyes lazily turning to him as you began smoking, leaning against the cold walls of Cafe Haru Haru. You've aged, he could tell, but at the same time you looked younger - it's probably because of the fact the dark eye bags he's used to seeing on your skin wasn't so prominent anymore, unlike the past. You don't look so tired - maybe you've finally been getting some peace at night.

"Mr Shiba," you rolled his name off your tongue as you finally lifted your head up, blowing out a cloud of smoke as you spoke. You don't sound too different. "You still follow strangers into dark alleyways. Break that nasty habit, why don't you?"

He scoffed slightly at your answer, "we're not strangers, don't address me so formally."

"Apologies," you nodded back at him as you stood a little to the side, letting him stand next to you in the narrow space. He took you up on your unspoken offer, standing opposite you, back against the other wall of another building. "Oi. You brat," you verbally slap him as you let him settle near you.

"You're not old enough to start calling me a brat either!" He retorted back, but you could tell that he doesn't really care about the way you address him. He's playing around. "We're not in war times anymore either, so you're not my superior."

Shiba doesn't get angry easily, the both of you know that there's worse things to get riled up over compared to this. You somewhat miss the days where he would show you something that's a little more of a normal reaction.

"I wasn't done speaking," you say, pulling the cigarette out your mouth to speak again. He stayed quiet after that, listening to you. "You were worrying the young man by staring at me like that," you murmured out, gazing up at him with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes seemed to catch something, as you briefly looked down. "Oh for goodness...! Fix your clothes." You grumbled, putting your cigarette back into your mouth to free up your hands. They smoothed out his collared shirt, and you pulled his suspenders back into place. "Why don't you notice these things, Shiba?"

Damn you and the eyes on the back of your head. But your observant nature was also what he was betting on. "Sorry."

He had noticed, but he knew that nothing would happen, so he didn't bother giving Chihiro any form of commutation regarding you. Though, he should have really at least gave him a wave or something. "I was just making sure that it really was you."

"Hm." You flicked your eyes up at him, not really buying his answer but chose not to linger long on it. "He looks like a young Rokuhira. But with less peach fuzz."

"...Yeah." Shiba nodded at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly at your words. His tone changed as he spoke, you noticed but couldn't place what he was feeling in response to your statement. "He's grown up a lot."

Your eyes flick over to the street and then back over to him. "Nice swords he's got." You state, taking another deep breath of your cigarette. Nonchalantly as ever, Shiba thinks, as you don't bother seeing if you're crossing boundaries you shouldn't be. "I take it that one of them is..." You say, not finishing on purpose, and Shiba is forced to mentally retrack his last statement.

"Yep." He nodded firmly at your unfinished question. If this was anyone else, he might have to reconsider sharing this bit of information, but he knew that you wouldn't do anything with it - it would just betray everything he knew about you.

You blinked at him slowly, already understanding any implications about that statement. "...I see."

A small moment of silence fell between the two of you - he rested his back against the cold walls of the building behind him as he gave you more space to stand with him. You stared at him, watching him watch you, the two of you aware of how close you were but didn't want to move further apart either.

"I saw the little poster about the Hishaku Ms Hinao put up." You stated, looking at him in the eyes, already knowing that he was the one that requested for the information. You've never asked Hinao about who put it up, but judging by what you know right now and the time frame that poster went up on the corkboard, you took a small leap of faith. He stared back into yours, occasionally glancing down to the cigarette in between your lips. "I'll let you know if I hear anything about them."

"...Thanks. That would help." He says, now looking off to the side before slowly guiding his eyes back to you, tracing your features as he tries to read your expression. He wouldn't be surprised if you were disappointed in him - he had a feeling that Kunishige would be.

You stare back at him, not caring about the way his eyes never really left your face. "Be careful," You say to him, locking back onto his pupils as you breath out another small puff of smoke. He stays silent, no random interjections. "I know you probably don't want to, but guiding or helping teenagers to commit violence doesn't settle nicely on your soul." As you spoke, your voice grew quieter. "Don't put more on your conscience if you can help it. The both of you."

...Huh. Shiba thought for sure you'd scold him for letting Chihiro do this. There was a part of him that followed you out of Cafe Haru Haru because he needed to consult to someone with a stronger moral compass. Kunishige wasn't there anymore, Azami could only assist him so much as part of the Kamunabi, you were the only one left.

"...Speaking from experience?" He asks you, though he really doesn't need to. He was there, from the start to the very end.

"I mean, that's all I have." You say back with a light voice that's meant to clear the tension, but he doesn't latch onto it. You take another inhale, shifting your eyes away, unable to bring yourself to look at what expression he had. "Sorry. I shouldn't lecture you."

"It's fine." Shiba says, but doesn't touch on it again as he shifts to another topic as you seem like you want to leave the conversation already. "How you've been doing recently?" He asks and the simple question already makes you want to let out a small groan.

"Eh." You start off, trying to think of a way to summarise your current everyday life in a way that won't concern him, but is enough to be honest at the same time. "Good enough. I'm currently teaching sorcery though."

"Huh?" He lets his mouth hang open at your words, blinking at you repeatedly. "Like, to a class? Or are you back in the Kamunabi?"

"Don't be ridiculous." You scoffed out at his guessing. "Just this kid that ran away from home." With a chuckle, you go on. "He's got potential, but he has a tendency to stick his nose into things he shouldn't be. He's like you when you were younger."

"I didn't cause that much trouble." He says, straight up denying your words.

"Only because you got away with it." You say, "The three of you would scuttle away to pull some shit off, and I would be forced to clean up any mess you made because I was in charge of your damn group." You let out a verbal exhale, thinking back on it. "If it wasn't for the fact it was war times, I wouldn't even be put in charge of you guys, y'know...? I'm not that much older than you."

He opens his mouth to say something in response to you, but when he receives a sharp glare in response, he closes it again, noticing something in the background. You turned around, looking at whatever he was looking at.

At the sound of a bell ringing behind you, you faced Hinao who had just exited from her store, holding a little bit of paper. The two of you instantly stop talking in anticipation of her speaking to either of you.

"Yo, you still- ah, there you are!" She said, walking up to you and extending the object in her hand to you, not caring that the two of you were just standing in the alleyway. "Here, they wanna meet up with you before working, but it seems like they're willing to hire you."

"Thank you, Ms Hinao." You said, taking it from her - you could tell from the lines that it was just torn out of her notepad. As you folded it neatly, you continued speaking, "I'll give you a cut of the pay if I get it, is that okay?"

"Eh?" She glanced over to Shiba who had forced a completely blank look on his face, not daring to show anything on his face to Hinao. He tried to look serious, but she thought that he just looked like a frog. "...Yeah, I mean, you always remember to pay up so I'm not too bothered." She agreed rather easily, before walking back into the café, realising that Shiba was talking to you, and there was just some sort of weird vibe coming from him. "See you."

The two of you watch Hinao go back into the café, a pensive thought on your face while Shiba continued to try to stay stoic. It doesn't really suit him, in your opinion.

"...Hm." You mumbled, sensing that she didn't want to hang around outside for too long for whatever reason, but once again, you don't care enough and just slip the paper into your pocket. "Well, I guess I should be going now."

His eyes darted over to you, "already?"

"Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow back at him. "I mean, I don't have a reason to stick around."

"You could talk to me." He said, "let's smoke together a little longer."

"Quit slacking," you shot down with a light laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "You haven't even been smoking while talking to me anyways."

He let out a small huff of annoyance, but you knew that he wasn't actually offended. "...Here, let's stay in contact." He says, pulling out his flip phone and handing it over to you.

"...Yeah, sure." You agree, putting your cigarette back in your mouth as you typed with both hands. When you handed his phone back over to you, he stuck his hand out, looking at you expectantly. You stared down at his palm, trying to think of what on Earth he wanted before taking the cigarette out of your mouth and putting it in between his fingers without another word.

He gave you a incredulous look, his pupils going back and forth from the object in his hands to your dumbfounded expression. "What?"

"...Huh?" You uttered back at him.

"I'm asking for your phone," he states, giving each word time to sink in, "so I can, you know, put my number in your contacts."

"...But I'm not going to contact you." You state, crossing your arms. He narrows his eyes at you, about to say more, but you chuckle at the expression on his face. "Goodbye, Shiba. Please give the young Rokuhira my sincerest condolences." you say back to him as you begin to walk away, joining the crowd. He watched your figure slowly disappear into the flock of people.

Shiba looked down at the object in his hands, it was still burning at the cherry. His eye flicked upwards again.

He pressed the cigarette to his lips, taking one last inhale of it as he looked at the crowd of people, trying to find you once more, before snuffing it out, walking back into Cafe Haru Haru.

[oatstheartificer]

Adrift; chapter 1

The hiss of pressure being released filled the darkened steel room, metal grating against metal as a glass tube was slowly pushed from beside the hundreds of others just like it. Inside, a dark shadow floating in a thick viscous blue liquid hardly moved as the metal arms carrying the tube slowly slotted the large glass construct into one of the slots on the floor- dozens going from wall to wall. A solid thunk reverberating through the walls as the tube settled in place.

“231,047,344,927 seconds since mission start. 44,928 seconds since diagnosis. Waking Occupant 27, Jacob Bridgestock. Initiating cryostasis end protocols”

The slightly rusty, well worn arms slowly pulled away from the glass tube. With a spark of electricity, and a puff of black smoke, one of the arms nearly fell apart as they slipped away into the allocated hole from whence they had emerged. However, nothing seemed hindered, as more machines slowly lowered themselves from the ceiling. Needles, tubes, and smaller mechanical hands reaching the smooth glass of the cryochamber. The top sliding to the side, allowing these machines access inside. Their glistening steel slowly pushing the viscous liquid aside, some spilling from the top of the tube as they reached the shadow within.

“Restarting cardiovascular activity. Flushing preservation substance. Restarting digestive tract. Initiating red cell production… Initiating white cell production… Restarting cell division. Brain tissue preserved- restarting neurological activity…”

As the synthesized voice floated through the air, announcing the biological systems being kickstarted back to life, the dark shadow within began to twitch. At first, only detectable if you had a keen eye, soon they were almost convulsive. The machines quickly rose back out of the liquid and into the ceiling as the glass tube slid downward at an alarming rate, the blue liquid oozing outward like spilled honey. The shadow- now clearly a man- burst forward, their toned muscles flexing as they ripped themselves away from where they had been floating. Their brown hair still coated in the blue ooze as they promptly vomited onto the floor- the liquid disappearing quickly as the slots took even the cryo liquid deep into the ship. To be cleaned, and if possible, reused.

“F-Fuck.”

Jacob gasped, taking his first real breath in who knew how long. Cryo was a lot rougher than he had been assured. The last time he had puked was when he was twelve, and he ate too much cake at his own birthday party. He watched as more cryo liquid dripped off his naked body and onto the floor, shivering as he slowly stood. Taking another deep breath, he slowly took in his surroundings. When he had been put into cryostasis, he had been on earth.

He remembered it well, the stark white and blue of a hospital still fresh in his memory. The doctors had said something about it being easier to store people in tubes than trying to coordinate everyone onto the ship- and that they didn’t have to worry about keeping everyone alive to get onto the ship since they were already dead, technically. He hadn’t really been paying attention to that part. He wanted to know how the mechanics of the machines had worked, but hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Now… Now he was being met with a sleek, gray metal room with slotted floors, glowing blue tubes he assumed were other colonists all over the walls. Neatly arranged like tools on a tool rack. And a single pathway leading away and into the halls of the ship. The Ulixes.

“So you’re finally awake?”

The synthesized voice blared out from the speakers, almost teasing. Making Jacob jump nearly a mile high. That had to be Evelyn, the onboard AI. Her, he knew. All too well.

“Yes, I am, and if you would be oh so kind as to lead me to the showers so i can wash this gunk off me, that would be great.”

A basketball sized drone slowly floated from ahead, emerging from the darkness. It was one of the many drones Evelyn had access to, this one was clearly one of the medical variety. Its bubble-like white shell only marked with a bright glowing red cross, and its two mechanical arms hanging from each side. Those arms looked as if they could split into dozens of different medical tools- it was quite handy, and it looked like it was one of the brand new top-of-the-line ones.

“Of course Jacob! Follow me. Well, the drone.”

The drone beeped before slowly turning- its hovering frame glimmering with blue as it caught the light of the cryotubes, the red cross lighting the way. Jacob sighed, and tried to cover his manhood as he followed the drone- hoping that he was the first one to wake up, so there were no awkward bump ins with his crewmates. His feet made wet slaps as he left a trail of cryo fluid behind him.

Jacob sighed in relief as the hot water rolled over his back- the blue liquid slowly swirling into the drain as he closed his eyes. He hadn’t met anyone else on the way to the showers, so he had to be the first of the crew that Evelyn had decided to wake up. Made sense, wake the engineer, let him check out the engine, the rest of the ship, and if anything needs repairing they can already be on it as the rest of them joined him in the land of the living.

He snorted a bit at the literalism of the phrase, running his fingers through his hair to make sure the rest of the cryo liquid was removed. Honestly, he was currently just happy to see they had hot water. Means he wouldn’t have to mess with any pipes.

Finishing up, he found a fluffy white towel waiting for him as he stepped out of the shower (which thankfully, had walls. So no communal showers. Probably suggested by the shrinks). Quickly wrapping the only piece of cloth he currently had around his waist, the edges of the towel rested against his knees as he looked for the medical drone. It was patiently waiting for him just outside the room, facing away from the door.

“What, embarrassed?”

Jacob teased, lightly slapping the top of the drone's body. It beeped before Evelyn's voice emerged from the built-in speaker in the unit.

“Ha ha, i may be an artificial being but i’m still a lady Jacob.”

Jacob rolled his eyes as he made sure the towel was firmly wrapped around his waist. Thankfully the soft yellowed light of the hallway was easy to see in, so he had no trouble.

“And where was that embarrassment when I was buck naked and covered in cryo fluid, hm?”

Evelyn didn’t seem to answer, the drone only floating forward. Jacob followed, a slight grin plastered on his face. One of the arms of the drone seemed to dislocate and land on the ground with a loud crash, nearly tripping him.

“Oops.”

Evelyn said casually, Jacob frowning at the drone in obvious fiend indignity. However, he didn’t say anything else, simply following the drone. The arm it had so easily dislocated, clicking back into place as it floated forward. Quite quickly, they found themselves in the living section of the ship. It wasn’t far from the showers, so it made sense. He had suggested that himself- nobody wanted to be walking very long after a very hard day at work just to get clean.

“Room 07. All the items you bought with you should be waiting inside. Including some proper clothes.”

Jacob nodded, looking at the airlock before him. He had helped design the dorms with the rest of the crew. An airlock in case the hull had a breach while most of them were sleeping, a hand scanner as well as a physical override to the right- and a large window in the center, which you could change the opacity of. He was quite proud of it, actually.

“Thanks Evelyn. I’ll get dressed, just send me the diagnostics list and I'll get started on something.”

The drone beeped, before turning and floating back the way they had come- vanishing around the corner. He took a deep breath and placed the palm of his hand against the scanner. For a moment, he thought it was broken, as it made a horrible buzzing sound- and then the door slid smoothly to the left. Relieved, he walked confidently inside and opened up the locker against the wall to his left as the door slid back into place and sealed with a thunk. His tool belt, worn and well loved, hung on its hook like an obedient pet.

His adaptive environmental suit hung beside it, looking like a deflated white balloon. He knew the look was deceiving, but it was hard not to imagine it just flopping around as he walked. In reality it was ungodly well fitting, and would cinch to his body perfectly. On the floor of the locker, his helmet. The sticker of earth he had slapped onto the bottom jaw still looked as snazzy as he remembered. It was a small touch of home, but it brought him more comfort than he was willing to admit. Just besides the helmet, his datapad. It’s almost invisible glass body only broken by the two gray control pads on each side. A small red light blinking on its surface, calling his attention.

“Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait just a moment.”

Jacob murmured, grabbing his suit and slipping into the open cavity in the back. Placing his hands firmly into place, he squeezed his hands into fists three times in quick succession. The suit reacted almost instantly, tightening around his body- the white hexagons turning blue, just as he had programmed it. When it finished, it felt like a second skin.

Though to everyone else it looked like a proper space suit, bulky in the right places and thin where it should be. He scooped his tool belt off its hook and slipped it around his waist, letting its familiar weight settle on his hips. He picked up the helmet, looking into the opaque visor and checking for cracks- when he found none, he set the helmet where a hood would have been, the light carbon alloy letting it hang there just as easily.

“And now for you.”

He grabbed the edge of the datapad and flicked his wrist, the pad flipping into the air only for him to catch it again with ease. Tapping the screen, he was greeted with a rather short list of repair jobs. Almost chewing the words, he began to walk out of his room as he ran through the list, the door sliding smoothly away as he approached.

“Let’s see… food printer twelve in the mess hall is not operating correctly… drone two-thirty is heavily damaged. Engine room has something loose, and the bridge port shielding is operating slightly below predicted. Well. I know where I'm gonna start.”

Jacob looked at the wall, eyes trailing down the rainbow of colored lines that would lead you where one to where they needed to go on the ship. Found the magenta line, and began to follow it.

“Food printer twelve, here I come.”

Arriving at the mess hall, Jacob hummed as he clicked the datapad to his belt, and deftly drew one of his diagnostic tools as he searched for the misbehaving machinery. The screen flickering to life as he counted out the printers along the walls, their girth making them oh-so-easy to find.

“Of all the tasks, you start here?”

Jacob jumped as Evelyn’s voice emerged from the speakers, nearly dropping his diagnostic tool. Giving one of the cameras watching him from the corners of the room, he was very glad he had vetoed the suggestion to put speakers into the dorms.

“Yes, everything else can be worked on afterwards. I’m sure everyone will appreciate not being sprayed with a mystery fluid when they decide to eat for the first time in decades, and a hot meal is important.”

He tapped the diagnostic tool against his head as he spoke, before walking over to one of the printers and checking the number engraved onto its side. It read twelve, and he did a little fist pump as he hooked up the two small plugs to the machine.

“Then why didn’t you get yourself a hot meal? I’m sure you’d have appreciated one, as you said.”

Jacob, focused on his diagnostic tool, waved dismissively as he began reading the data flowing before his eyes.

“Yeah but I basically run off energy drinks. I’m no stranger to skipping breakfast, as long as I can get my hands on one.”

There was a very audible sigh as he unplugged the tool from the printer, and slotted it back where it belonged on his belt. Grabbing the wrench beside it, he reached under the beast and popped open the access port. Nearly climbing into the thing, he began searching for the extruder, two small lights popping on by his shoulders.

“That’s quite unhealthy Jacob”

Evelyn commented disapprovingly, as Jacob moved aside some wiring and tubes with his wrench. His lights shine on one of the few metal things in this machine- the extruder.

“Maybe, but it’s a time honored tradition of any engineer. Don’t mess with something that ain't broke Evelyn. Some think if an engineer isn’t caffeinated, nothing gets fixed properly.”

He grunted as he placed the wrench around the bolt holding the extruder to the nutrient pipe, slowly turning it. His muscles strained as he fought against a factory tightened bolt

“That’s a myth.”

Suddenly, he felt no resistance at all, and the bolt came free. And smashed his hand into the wall of the printer, hissing in pain as he shook his hand.

“You’d think but every engineer I've ever met agrees, so your opinion is null and void.”

After making sure he hadn’t hurt his hand and giving the machine gods their blood offering (he hadn’t even broken the suit’s surface) he reached into the nearly fist-sized pipe. Feeling around for what he was sure, no, knew was the problem. With a pop, he pulled out a solid pink mass of- something. Some clear liquid following from behind and splattering onto the bottom of the machine.

“AHA! Got you, you little fuck.”

Tossing the pink ball of.. Probably what was supposed to be ham, he placed the extruder back into place and began tightening it back up,

“I disagree.”

Jacob rolled his eyes as he finished tightening the bolt, giving it a good firm tug to make sure it didn’t come loose. When it indeed didn’t, he swung himself out of the printer and slapped the access port back into place.

“Well, disagree all you like. I know the truth.”

Triumphantly, he typed in an order to the printer for a cup of pudding. It began to spur to life, lights turning on as his shoulder lights turned off. The nozzle slowly moved forward, into position over the build plate. A cup popped up from below as the tube began to shake. Before he could react or turn it off, pudding sprayed out from just above the bolt in all directions, coating everything in a brown sludge. For a second, Jacob just stood there, before he slowly wiped the pudding from his eyes and turned to one of the cameras.

“I should have had coffee first.”

He grumbled, Evelyn’s soft laugh bubbling out of every speaker around him as he headed back to the showers.

After his second shower of the day, he washed his environmental suit in one of the showers. While they were pretty amazing, they didn’t self wash yet. But it was odd, he still hadn’t met anyone.

“Hey, Evelyn? Shouldn’t there be other people awake by now?”

He looked down at his freshly cleaned datapad- he had spent at least an hour washing off his things, and however long he had taken to get his things and (try) to fix the food printer.

“You are- correct. Strangely, I don't detect any other life signs on the ship. Not that that means much, since they’re all basically bodies-”

Slipping his helmet back into its place, he began to speed-walk his way back into the cryo chamber. Stopping at the doorway, watching as the arms- arm, one of them was shot, wires hanging from its joint- why hadn’t that been on his to-do list?- as the other working hand picked up another cryopod and placed it into a slot. The entire dance started again, the arms lowering down into the tube and trying to inject and flush- but there was nobody inside. Which should have been impossible, every single cryopod should have someone. Looking around, he saw that dozens of slots had the telltale glass ring showing they had been drained… but not a soul. Running now, Jacob began to look at each pod. No shadow, no arm, not even a face pressed against the glass. Not one other pod had a body in it.

“Evelyn! Where is everyone?”

He yelled, sprinting now as he checked dozens more. He ran through the halls, through various rooms. Planning, navigation, even hydroponics and the engine room.

“I- don’t know. Internal diagnostics show that everyone is accounted for… Wait. an unknown time ago, the Ulixes was struck by a stray asteroid and all systems went offline for 400,000,00 seconds. Data was lost. Location- Unknown. Crew- Unaccounted for-”

She began to list off everything that she found, and Jacob felt overwhelmed. Not only was the crew he had trained, lived with, and prepared to share a new home with missing… but they didn’t even know where they were. They had missed Kepler-20f, by a long shot. He was alone, with an AI, in space, without knowledge of anywhere he could go. He sat down, resting his chin on his fist as he thought. He didn’t know if he could go back into Cryo, and even if he could, should he? He didn’t know what happened to the crew, and for all he knew, they had dissolved into the cryo liquid after being in it for…

“Evelyn, how long were we- was I asleep?”

He asked quietly. Evelyn stopped listing off things and paused, calculating the time, converting into minutes, hours, years- the tension could have been cut with a knife.

“7,321 years.”

He looked at the ceiling and let out a long breath, holding his knees as he thought it over. Seven thousand years. An absurd amount of time, so much time lost to the sleep of cryo stasis. So many opportunities to have stopped their course, check to make sure it was plotted correctly. It was the one system Evelyn hadn’t been hooked up to, running autonomously all on its own. With four backup servers to make sure it didn’t even come close to having a lapse in function.

“Okay. Okay. So, what we know. We’re lost. The crew has either turned to mush in the pods or were kidnapped or- something. Really hoping it’s not aliens. Or xenomorphs. Oh please don’t be xenomorphs-”

He laughed nervously, running his fingers through his hair as he continued to look up at the ceiling.

“Well there’s no movement on the ship besides my drones… so I don't think that would be it.”

Evelyn said helpfully, Jacob taking several deep breaths to calm himself. She was right. That was a movie monster. It wasn’t real, and it never would be.

“You’re right. You’re right, I'm being stupid. First thing we learned was to remain calm. Okay. Evelyn, I'll figure out what happened to the crew. While I'm doing that, can you scan the surrounding stars around us and try and get where we are in the milky way? We didn’t leave it, that would have taken millions of years.”

With a pop, Evelyn went silent. Taking a moment, he listened to the almost imperceptible hum of the engine, taking comfort in its regularity.

"Okay, if anything is gonna have information on what happened to- everyone, I need to get to the server banks. Those should be…”

He pulled out his datapad, hands shaking slightly as he tapped the screen and began looking at the layout of the almost spear shaped ship.

“...one room below the bridge. Directly below it. Makes sense, that’s where the most data is gonna be so might as well put it close.”

Getting back onto his feet, he closed his eyes for a moment before heading into the hallway and looking at the wall- slowly panning over the different colored bands before stopping on the black line, and following it. Behind him, a security drone detached from the wall and began to follow behind him, silently. Finding the door easily, he placed his palm on the scanner- and was denied access.

“What?”

He tried again, and again was denied access. Cursing quietly, he pulled out his diagnostic tool and hooked it up to the scanner.

“No clearance? I should have clearance to the entire ship, this doesn’t make sense.”

He clicked his diagnostic tool off again and slotted it back in its place at his hip, grabbing his multitool. Its sleek design helped make the various tools look less garish. Pulling out a single wire, he clicked the pin into place, and began trying to override the system. He cursed again when his wire fried, smoking slightly as he pulled the pin out and frowned.

“Ev-”

Evelyn’s voice popped up from his datapad, nearly scaring him half to death- again.

“Yes Jacob? What’s the Matter?”

He put a hand on his chest and let out a long breath before answering.

“I don’t have access to the server room.

”There was a pause before she spoke again.

“But that’s not possible, you have the highest clearance right behind the captain-”

Jacob held up his hand, her voice slowly fading.

“I know. Which is why it’s weird. Can you get it open for me?”

There was another pause, before with a clunk and a hiss, the airlock slid away to reveal the server room. With a smile, he looked up to the camera and gave it a wink, trodding into the room- the security drone following close behind as the door sealed closed behind him. Walking between the towers that reached all the way to the ceiling, Jacob looked down at his datapad and began searching for a port he could slot his pad into. Quickly finding one, he pressed his pad into the coin-like slot and waited as the little green light blinked on and off. It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually the light turned from green to blue, signaling he had access to the servers.

“And here we go, let’s see what’s in store for me.”

Pulling his datapad from the slot, he flipped it in his hands- almost apprehensive, before he began opening files. There wasn’t a lot interesting, thousands of diagnostic reports, reports from the navigation system saying everything was working properly- though he paused at a file that seemed to be buried beneath a bunch of these reports.

“Avalon?”

He asked curiously, pressing on the file- immediately, his pad began to glitch and fritz out, smoke beginning to billow out of the sleek tome. Dropping the quickly heating technology, he backed away- the pad completely frying in a matter of seconds.

“What the actual hell is going on.”

[pseudoquiddity]

IPL AMA

On Feb. 10 via pikabu, Ice-Pick Lodge answered some questions! With a bit of a lovely introduction:

"A new day has begun. In the theater, the Masks have completed the rehearsal, the people from the Termitary are out for a smoke break, and in the Broken Heart tavern they wipe down the glasses."

"... let's ask ourselves the most popular question: Will Daniil come? Yes, we've already bought him a ticket."

"Ask, for we hear."

I translated some Q&As and thought some folks might be interested. They answered questions about the Bachelor, Backer Rewards, Franz and The Void (Turgor). I'm used to videogame communities where, like, five youtubers instantly jump on the smallest scrap of information, so find below a summary of these topics.

BACHELOR ROUTE:

The game has largely gone through pre-production and almost everything has entered the pre-alpha stage, or is in the alpha itself. Currently, they are scripting quests and creating locations and models. Before the Haruspex's route came out, there was access to the alpha, but IPL doesn’t want to write checks it can’t cash, so to speak, so nothing is promised for the Bachelor. Preparing an alpha to show to the public is something that requires its own kind of polish, and they will try to see a public-alpha through, but if not - they might settle for another kind of presentation. Here's some speculation: I believe that IPL has a rough release date for the Bachelor, or one will come soon, that they won't announce. I think they have all of the mechanics down, and now what is left is the aesthetic; as they said, the models.

FRANZ:

SOON. That’s the impression, at least. They have an internal release date, but the reason why they haven’t announced anything yet is because it needed more testing and how it’s going to be distributed on digital platforms was reconsidered. That’s a general theme, here. They have internal dates for ideas, for projects, but the rule of thumb is generally that something will step in the way and they don’t want to make promises they can’t keep. In the meantime, look forward to a future video about the creation of the game and more devlogs. 

Also … Interacting with Franz, whether out of anger or care, will naturally require more interaction. Franz is also capable of forgiveness. Step gently.

THE VOID: 

No current plans to remaster or recreate or VR-ify or revisit or republish The Void. There have been thoughts on transferring it to mobile because the controls may function well there, but monetization is a bridge they’d need to cross and they’re not there yet. 

BACKER ITEMS: 

They’re coming !!! In some cases, they’re here !!! Customs can get in the way, is all, but people have gotten their items. Almost like proof, a person posted in the AMA that they received all of their items but also got an extra item - a white card with the black letters r f n e ? Upon asking what it was or what it meant, the response by IPL was basically: Ask the Townsfolk :) The promised book is also making some headway and is being written by Dybowsky and someone else they employed, but they don’t want it to interfere with the Bachelor’s campaign, so progress is ultimately minimal.

MISC: 

The dev team is doing well :) There was mention that they’ve expanded. There is also no plan to return the online IPL store. At first, it was a firm no, and then it was a - “not yet.” (I think.) There was also this weird allusion to the Bachelor coming by train, soon? That they had bought him a ticket and he would be arriving? That’s beyond me.

That's all. If anyone has questions, I am here. All the time. Constantly. I wonder when the Bachelor will arrive by that aforementioned train.

[byenycfm]

Late into the evening on March 29th a window is broken in the Common Room. Madeline Higheagle is the first to notice. Investigating the shards of broken glass they find a radio and within moments of picking it up it shoots to life with static in her hand. A familiar voice jokes with Maddie to prepare for guests before providing instructions.

Several hours later a zipline has been constructed between the Wexley and a neighboring building, mostly thanks to the free climbing skills of the Wexley's head maid--who'd been MIA and presumed dead since the Winter supply runs. In Reality, Tamberlane Shelley had been preparing for a grand return.

She had been the one to instruct the ship-locked survivors to remain in the bay, intending to radio Ashton Ryder and inform him of the situation; Unknowing that his own radio equipment had been broken months prior.

Flying high across the city streets, Lane is only the first of many to cross into the Wexley using the zipline. Dozens of mismatched bags and duffels come one after the other, each carrying a small piece of the treasure Lane worked hard to gather before her return. Captain Eduardo and Chef Trey have made it back no worse for wear along with a friendly dog they picked up on the beach who's name tag reads Lady.

Supplies from the ship

Wheels of Cheese

Barrel of aged Whiskey

Bulk Coffee Roast

Bulk Teas

Bulk Pasta Sauce

Bulk Red Wine

Bulk White Wine

Bulk Saltwater Taffy

Bulk Honey

Medical Supplies from the ships' infirmary

Several Flares & Flare Gun

A Dozen Cuban Cigars

Supplies gathered from the Wexley Department Store

Over the counter meds & vitamins

Canned goods

Hygiene and beauty products

Mini Propane tanks

Deer Feed

Ghillie Suit

2 Crossbows & Bolts

1 Compound Bow & Arrows

???

Several blocks of C4 Explosives

Smoke bombs

What can be used for the party will and the rest will be added to the Wexley's medical supplies and food pantry.

[bawkrya]

🍉🍅🥝

🍉Share the dragon who would be most likely to get banned from a grocery store, and talk about why you picked them

BAWKY ❤️ he smokes inside he wont put on a shirt he'll start eating the product before buying it and almost forget to buy it at all he Has in fact broken a glass display with his tail and depending on the day he bites back if people confront him

🍅Describe your clan's home/lair in two sentences.

For Phrauge: red poison sand with bone houses. 100 the grees always forever

🥝If you were to start over on your lore and remake it entirely, what would you change?

GOD IDEK because for the bitches who have been here forever know i used to change my lore CONSTANTLY . . . . . Ermm . . . . If i completely restarted i think i would be one of those strict aesthetic lairs with all 200+ slots opened but only 4 g1 dirt dragons with oje sentence bios and retire in earth.

[shmowder]

Honestly I put yulia in the neutral tier since I’m very similar to her in some regards and I’m having a crisis every other Wednesday so like I could get high with her we can have a crisis as a team! But no yeah in retrospect not really a neutral option unless you enjoy depression…or unless she mellows out while under the influence which isn’t probably likely

Oh yeah if you get high with Aspity some sort of horrific thing will occur to you during or afterwards that’s one where you dug your own grave now lay in and oh god the idea of giggly happy high Daniil is absolutely beautiful he’d absolutely demand you never speak of that to anyone ever as if anyone would actually believe you to begin with if you attempted to tell them that.

Thought of some more characters after sending the original ask so I’ll give those thoughts as well because oh boy did I start thinking a lot about this most of it while I myself was under the influence, I’d probably put Nina kain as well into the it could become a terrifying experience to be high/get high with her genuinely do not think that experience goes well for you that just seems like it ends poorly, Lara seems like she could go either way as well it might be a good experience or it could get depressing as all hell that or she’d become oddly productive no matter how it goes I love Lara so I don’t care which it becomes I’ll get high with her still. Including the executioners since it’s too funny not to, this assuming you could get high with them which would be a horrifying experience in which it would feel like you are dying….probably because you die afterwards or similar to Aspity something bad happens to you in some way shape or form but then again you dug your own grave buckroo. The last character I have any thoughts on how they’d be around to smoke with is vlad the younger and I think that’d be a miserable experience I don’t think it’d anything expect absolutely miserable I don’t know why you’d want to get high with him anyway but if you do it won’t be fun at least that’s my opinion.

-immune anon

honestly who am i to rain on your parade if the "half-empty glass" woman is your cup of tea. Pass her that joint.

For Vlad Jr, I understand where you're coming from.

But I don't think it'd be that bad. He's the type who thinks "this ediable ain't shit" five minutes later. "Can the kin worms communicate with the worms in the ground below?"

He remains collected for half an hour through the trip before it all hits him at once. He either freaks out or becomes the most mellowed out version of himself.

In both scenarios, he's the type to go full conspiracy theorist. Making connections between unrelated things, uncovering mysteries that were allegedly hidden in plain sight.

Vlad Jr. as your trip sitter is when his virtues shine through....kinda of. He doesn't let you wander off into the street in your current state, at least. But he mind put you through the "🐭🐭🐭🐭🐰🐭🐭 Spot the rabbit!" cocomelon quizzes type shit. Out of curiosity.

Casually bringing up the embarrassing stuff you did the next day. "Hey, remember yesterday when you showed me your animal print sock collection, then proceeded to cry on the floor in a fetus position when you couldn't find the other pair to the frog socks? Well :) I paid some people to break into your house and search for them, here you go. It apparently was at the bottom of your laundry basket. You must have missed it under the pile of clothes."

Or mentioning how he found some pebble shaped candy in the store, so you don't have to go and eat rocks like you kept talking about while high last night.

It's like he is trying to be helpful–but his definition of help isn't the most appropriate or useful.

[soniez]

Spice Up Your Life – The Ultimate Guide to Making Homemade Red Chilli Pickle

Red chilli pickle is a beloved condiment in Indian cuisine, renowned for its fiery flavor and ability to add a punch to any meal.  Whether enjoyed with parathas, rice, or as a side to your favorite curry, red chilli pickle is a versatile and delicious addition to any dining table.  In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through the steps to create your own homemade red chilli pickle, ensuring that you can enjoy this spicy delight whenever you desire.

The Art of Pickling Red Chillies

Ingredients:

Fresh red chillies

Mustard seeds

Fenugreek seeds

Asafoetida (hing)

Turmeric powder

Salt

Mustard oil

Vinegar

Method:

1.   Prepare the Chillies:

Wash the red chillies thoroughly and pat them dry.

Remove the stems and slice the chillies lengthwise into halves or quarters, depending on your preference.  Be sure to wear gloves to protect your hands from the fiery heat of the chillies.

2.   Dry Roast the Spices:

In a dry pan, lightly roast the mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds until fragrant.  Allow them to cool, then grind them into a coarse powder using a mortar and pestle or spice grinder.

3.   Prepare the Pickling Masala:

In a bowl, mix together the ground mustard seeds, fenugreek seeds, turmeric powder, asafoetida, and salt to taste.  This aromatic masala will form the base of your red chilli pickle.

4.   Marinate the Chillies:

Place the sliced red chillies in a clean, dry glass jar.

Add the pickling masala to the jar, ensuring that the chillies are well-coated with the spice mixture.

5.   Add Vinegar and Oil:

Pour enough vinegar into the jar to cover the chillies completely.

Heat mustard oil in a pan until it reaches smoking point, then allow it to cool slightly.  Pour the cooled mustard oil over the chillies until they are fully submerged.

6.   Let it Mature:

Seal the jar tightly and store it in a cool, dark place for at least a week to allow the flavors to meld and develop.  Your homemade red chilli pickle will continue to improve in flavor over time.

Why Make Your Own Red Chilli Pickle?

While there are many commercial varieties of red chilli pickle available in the market, making your own at home offers several distinct advantages:

1.   Freshness:  By making your own red chilli pickle, you can ensure that you are using the freshest ingredients available, resulting in a superior flavor and texture.

2.   Customization:  Homemade red chilli pickle allows you to tailor the level of spiciness and seasoning to suit your personal taste preferences.  You can experiment with different varieties of red chillies and spices to create a pickle that is uniquely yours.

3.   Quality Control:  When you make your own red chilli pickle, you have full control over the quality and purity of the ingredients used.  You can avoid additives, preservatives, and artificial colors commonly found in commercial products.

4.   Satisfaction:  There is a sense of satisfaction that comes from creating something delicious from scratch in your own kitchen.  Homemade red chilli pickle is a labor of love that you can proudly share with family and friends.

Red Chilli Pickle Supplier and Manufacturer in India

As a leading food product company in India, we take pride in offering high-quality red chilli pickle made from the finest ingredients sourced from trusted suppliers.  Our state-of-the-art food processing facilities ensure that our red chilli pickle is manufactured under strict hygiene and quality standards, preserving its freshness and flavor.

Whether you are a fan of traditional spicy pickles or prefer a milder, tangier flavor, our range of red chilli pickles caters to every palate.  From classic recipes to innovative twists, we strive to delight our customers with our diverse selection of pickled delights.

Spice Up Your Meals with Homemade Red Chilli Pickle

In conclusion, making homemade red chilli pickle is a rewarding culinary experience that allows you to savor the vibrant flavors of Indian cuisine in the comfort of your own home.  With just a few simple ingredients and some patience, you can create a mouthwatering condiment that will elevate any meal to new heights of deliciousness.

Whether you are a seasoned cook or a novice in the kitchen, making red chilli pickle is a fun and rewarding endeavor that is sure to impress your taste buds.  So why wait? Gather your ingredients, roll up your sleeves, and embark on a flavorful journey as you create your own homemade red chilli pickle.  Your taste buds will thank you!

[smokingaccessoriesinusa]

Benefits of Buying Smoking Accessories From an Online Store

Smoking accessories play a vital role in improving the whole smoking experience for their users. If you want to make your smoking sessions more convenient for you and have better hits with your bongs or chillums every time, then you should consider getting smoking accessories that are designed by some of the best brands in the business. These days, it is very easy to buy smoking accessories online as numerous e-commerce stores offer their range of products for buyers.       

Gone are the days when you needed to walk out of your home and step into a physical head shop to buy items like bongs, herb grinders, glass pipes, and rolling machines. You can now place orders for all kinds of smoking accessories right from the comfort of your own home. Moreover, you can also have a more extensive range of smoking accessories to choose from when you decide to do your shopping online.   

Factors that have Led to the Popularity of Online Smoke Shops in the US

More and more people these days prefer to buy their smoking accessories from online stores than physical ones. These days, it can be hard for people to take out time from their busy schedules to look for the products that they want to buy. On the other hand, an online store makes it so much easier for them to buy smoking accessories and they can do that in much less time. This is why most people nowadays love to buy smoking accessories from online head shops.   

Here are some major advantages of buying smoking accessories from an online store.

If you have purchased something only to regret later, that there are far better products out there, then you are not alone. One of the difficulties with offline shopping is that you have limited scope to compare different types of products and then make up your mind about which one best suits your needs. Online stores allow buyers to do ample research and compare different products before buying. This ensures greater customer satisfaction for them.

Another big reason for buying smoking accessories online is that it allows buyers to maintain complete discretion when it comes to their smoking habits. Whether you are looking to smoke hemp, marijuana, or tobacco, you can benefit from complete secrecy when you buy these products from an online shop. So, if you have any family members who do not approve of your smoking habits, you can avoid being noticed by placing orders for these products online.

Ever since COVID-19, more and more people prefer to buy all their goods online because it protects them from being exposed to potential threats outside their homes. Besides, buying products online is naturally more convenient than traditional modes of shopping. This is why getting smoking accessories is always a good idea.

Conclusion

Once you have made up your mind that you are going to buy online smoking accessories, you should visit the online store of Olivastu as it has got an extensive stock of products made by the best brands in the industry.