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& FELIX.

felix had always wanted to be one of those aloof authors who typed away in a coffee shop all day, sipping latte after latte while their magnum opus formed itself. he heard an author once say that the best thing a writer can do is write in public–completely give himself up to scrutiny from the outside world while still confidently typing away, allowing nosy strangers to read over his shoulder. the idea sounded almost romantic, in some unidentifiable way, to felix. 

unfortunately now he simply found himself staring at a blank google document after typing and retyping the same ten sentences for nearly an hour and a half. at least he was getting a bit of practice people watching—though, no one had particularly caught his eye. when he got up to order a (third) iced macchiato, he found that very comfortable, secluded seat on a sofa in the corner had been taken up, leaving only a seat at a shared table. begrudgingly, he sat and attempted to look as busy and productive as possible. 

the voice next to him was first of all female and second of all foreign, in both senses of the word. he would describe it as chipper, maybe, or buoyant, if he so had the opportunity. but what did she want??

“Huh?” he asked. 

HONEY hadn’t always been so persistent. As a young girl she was often called quiet and kept mostly to herself. She only really grew out of her shell when she started her own business. It had basically forced her to become a somewhat sociable person, and now she was more than happy to be friendly to another soul.

She withdrew the notepad almost immediately, cheeks turning a bright pink from the slight embarrassment from realising how sudden she had been. ❝ Sorry, I just wanted to know what you thought of my recipe? ❞ She paused for a moment, nervously tapping on the notepad. 

❝ I should have asked, sorry about that. ❞

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& XAVIER

a quiet spot was all he was looking for.

which he has more than enough of back at his place, but xavier wasn’t fond of sitting and drinking on his lonesome unless he had something stronger in his hand. though he was still technically alone, even if he were among other patrons of the coffee shop.

he seemingly found the spot he was looking for and takes a seat, his coffee and phone settled on the table in-front of him. the urge to pick up the device and go about his routine of reading the latest garbage published was high.

then all of a sudden, he has a notepad in his face and a voice in his ear. he manages to muster a smile at her request. it had been a lifetime since somebody had merely asked something so… simple of him. 

“ i mean— sure, why not? ” he takes the notepad from her, scanning the contents.

it helped that this would also pose as some form of distraction and put an end to the constant scrolling of his newsfeed. for the moment, at least. quite frankly, it had become a vacuum that sucked him in every so often, rendering him unable to pull away from delving into the depths of the horrific trite that continued to be written about him.

he returns the notepad, “ personally, i think you might be better off cutting down on the lemon or maybe just disregard it completely. but other than that, i’d say it’s worth a try. ”

A GLIMMERING smile found its way to Honey’s lips, she took pride in showing people her creations. Maybe a little annoying at times, but you had to be if you were running your own business. She was always a little persistent, even as a child she excelled in almost everything she did. It was her determination to succeed that helped her run a bakery in a city like this one. 

She felt relieved when he seemed okay with her sudden proposition. Sinking back into the couch slightly, she stared over to him with nervous wide eyes. Honey nodded, biting down on her lip for just a few seconds. ❝ I will try cutting down the lemon, I don’t want to get rid of it completely because it balances the sweetness out. Thanks for the suggestion though. ❞ Her tone was sweet, similar to the treats she baked.

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& LILAH.

     LILAH VALUED her personal space more than anything – well, almost anything, her family always came first – and so when she chose a seat next to someone it was for the sake of needing to settle in and not finding anything more secluded.

Waiting for someone meant she couldn’t just grab her coffee and go, so she sat next to Honey hoping that the girl’s attention on her own business would keep her from getting into Lilah’s; no such luck.

With a notepad in her face and a seemingly practiced yet somehow natural bitch face spreading across her features, she tried desperately to not let all of her venom seep out at once, “Oh? I don’t really bake.” at least she was smart enough to gather that the recipe involved that, she supposed, “I’d say nutmeg and cinnamon though…?”

Lilah Vasile wasn’t necessarily a people person, but when forced she attempted to pretend to be one, given her position.

STARRY eyed was the perfect way to describe Honey. Sickly sweet, she trusted everyone so easily, probably more than she should. Growing up in the country side sure did make you a nice girl, and that’s exactly what she was. Being a nice girl in Chicago didn’t get you very far, but luckily for her she hadn’t had any bad encounters, just yet. 

Biting down on her red painted lip, she let out a gentle sigh. ❝ Oh I’m sorry. ❞ Immediately she felt a tightness in her chest, anxiety washing over her in an instant. Maybe she thought too much about what people thought of her, but Chicago was overwhelming for a small girl like her.

She picked up a little at the female’s next comment, relaxing back into the couch. ❝ Hmm. ❞ She glossed over what she had written down again, a grin appearing on her lips, much like the one before. ❝ Actually that’s perfect ! thank you so much. What brings you here this afternoon? ❞ Honey had always taken an interest to people. 

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*puts on cool socks* Ok ready to go

[crmsnangcls]

IF Honey wasn’t at her bakery, she was curled up on a couch at the local coffee shop in town. In one hand she clasped tightly onto the tangerine mug, the other hand scribbling away random recipe ideas that were constantly flowing through her mind. Today was no different. 

It was early afternoon, and she usually decided to finish work by now. Although her day wasn’t exactly over, it was still light and her mind was bubbling with the next new baked good she was going to sell. Humming a soft tune she made her way to the coffee shop. Once she had ordered, she took a seat in her usual coffee shop. Eyes darting around, hoping to see a familiar face that she could share her new idea with. 

She waited until someone sat next to her before shoving the notepad in their face. ❝ Sorry to bother you ! But I’m writing a new recipe and I just wanted to know if you thought it would be worth trying? ❞ A warm smile plastered on her lips.

If it wasn’t for her accent, her innocence showed she wasn’t born here. Because after all, who would be that friendly with the dangers that lurked around the town. 

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✧ ( thomas and heaven whoops)

I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

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* JIMMY.

@thomas-faust || closed starter || jimmy 

it hasn’t been nearly as difficult as jimmy had expected. in fact, as he steps foot in the den—a very interesting addition to a pretty run down looking bar—he wonders how much easier it could possibly get. there’s a part of him that asks i wonder if this is a trap; but if the fausts are familiar enough with him to set traps for him already? well, the fun is all over before it’s even begun. jimmy isn’t stupid. he understands that the risk now isn’t a few million dollars of someone else’s lost, but one very smart man once said something about having skin in the game. 

he found himself drifting through the room, observing and most importantly: hunting. it doesn’t take long to spot the guy–and wow, for being a big man he’s a little… well, honestly, a little shrimpy. but jimmy’s met some goddamn ruthless little guys in his life, so he’s choosing not to assume. never assume anything about your subject unless you have plenty of evidence to back it up. first contact: establish self (confident, sure), establish connection (careful, heavy intent), validate ego (fascination, adoration). 

‘ Whatever you do, just don’t be a dog claiming to be a wolf. ‘ now that was a powerful sentence right there. 

“You ever get up there and throw a few punches?” he asks, holding his hand out for a shake. if there is one thing jimmy and his daddy could agree with, it’s that the way a man shakes your hand tells you just about everything you should know about them. it’s a science in its own right. if he’s got the man clocked correctly, he’s going to get a firm but brief handshake, followed by niceties that aren’t entirely disingenuous.

“Jimmy Bennett.”

TUCKED away in the dimly lit corner of the bar sat Thomas Faust. His half lidded gaze didn’t move from the scene in front of him. He hadn’t been back in Chicago all that long, and drawing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted. The Den was the perfect place to do just that. It was a dirty place, filled with brawls and fighting and someone like Thomas could easily go unnoticed. 

He was nursing his usual poison - whiskey, and luckily for him he was in his own territory. Although it didn’t make him less relaxed, in fact by now he had made a note of every single person that walked through the door. Some might say he was a little paranoid, but Thomas had always been that way, it was just how he had been raised.

Immediately he had noticed a newcomer that walked into the room. He definitely didn’t recognise him, and by now Thomas had met almost every new Faust so he must have been an outsider. He kept his gaze on him, watching him like prey as he took another sip from his devilish drink. 

He had to wonder what his intentions were when he walked over to him. Anyone would know better than to just walk straight up to someone, especially someone like him. He sat up straight, blue hues falling on his hand for a moment before shaking his hand firmly. 

❝ Tommy. ❞ He wasn’t looking to become friends, and he was in hiding after all.

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& Zach.

Another fucking press conference.

He should be thankful. There were nights where he dreamed of this, fantasizing in a mirror what words he would use. How he would say them. Yet, when the cameras click and the flashes follow, he’s not met with excitement. He gets a headache instead. 

Then there’s the voice. Actually, it’s a collection of them, the room is full of busy bodied journalists who want the latest scoop. They’re all asking the same damn thing, they might as well be in unison. 

“Mayor Washington, what are your next steps on cracking down on the drug problem in Chicago?” “Mayor Washington, a body was found in the Chicago River. It’s suspected to be gang related. What are you going to about the gang violence? Mayor, Washington, Are you regretting your decision to run?”

He might be hallucinating that last one.  

When the show’s over, Zach bolts out. No one’s gonna worry, it’s a ritual for him to get as far away from everyone and decompress. Give him twenty, he’ll be back in the office soon enough. Out of his pocket, he pulls a spliff. Horrible unprofessional, like any good politician.  Zach feels guilty, but he reminds himself this is no habit. He sparks it and inhales both the tobacco and THC counterparts. Magic, he swears, he already feels better. 

It doesn’t last long. Footsteps approach, and he’s struck with a cough attack. “Okay, you caught me,” Zach surrenders, raising his joint like white flag. “Just…hush… The press is probably still poking around here somewhere and they’ve got ears like a bat.” 

MORNING was an old friend of Honey’s. It was her favourite part of the day. She was up before most people and felt like one of the lucky few that got to witness the beauty of the sun’s rays as they began to glisten over the city. She had always been a morning person. Even as a child she used to get up bright and early for her dance classes, maybe that was why she was so suited for being a baker. 

Today was no different, she had been awake for hours, already through most of her day when she finally decided to leave work a little bit early. Her bakery was a sort of safe haven to her, she had spent so much time there that she even started to smell like a delicious treat. 

She left through the back door, holding a couple of tasty treats wrapped away in a pastel pink box. Honey didn’t have all that planned for the rest of her day, so she continued to walk down the street before noticing a peculiar smell.

She stopped in her tracks, noticing where the smell was coming from. A rosy blush crept upon her cheeks, shaking her head. ❝ My lips are sealed. ❞ She looked over her shoulder for a moment, wondering where the mayor had actually come from. ❝ Need to relax? ❞

11:34AM

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* TEDDY.

IF TEDDY HAD GROWN UP twenty years prior, he’d have bashed this mother fucker’s face in a long time ago when he wasn’t too feeble to fight, but he supposes he’ll settle for tonight despite the way he holds himself back, nails engraining themselves in the table’s worn wood where his hands clutch its sides. he registers the tips of his ears turning red, a burning flush dusting his already drink-rosy cheeks. “ because it was none of my FUCKING business. so i didn’t like the bitch—i don’t like a lot of people. ” the second half of his sentence hang in the air, a pointed look shot in the other’s direction. “ why am i even explaining any of this to you ? you’re not family. you shouldn’t have even come back. oliver doesn’t need you to coddle him. ”

HE HATES A LOT OF THINGS—shitty drivers, kids that cry on airplanes, nervous twitches, but there’s nothing that gets under his skin harder and faster than being belittled. thomas is doing a swell job of it, all easy, half laden hues and a slowly spreading simper while teddy perches on the other side of the table like a rabid dog just aching to take a bite out of his throat. “ oh, you’re criticizing me. is that supposed to mean something ? i don’t even know who the fuck you are except some prick in a bar just begging me to hit him. is that what you want out of all this ? for me to hit you so you can cry to oliver about it and make him choose sides ? he won’t be pickin’ yours, that’s for goddamn sure. ”

HE would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was enjoying this maybe a little bit. It was like he was playing some sort of game, although Thomas wasn’t exactly trying very hard. His gaze fell to Teddy’s hands, noticing the whiteness of his knuckles. He could feel the anger radiating off him, just waiting to be let loose. It gave Thomas a satisfaction unlike no other, he was in control of the situation, not the other. ❝ You think I’m back to coddle Oliver? After I left him for seven years? ❞ 

Thomas just let out an apathetic sigh, he was merely bored of the conversation. No matter the outcome he would leave with not even a second thought, Teddy on the other hand would be filled with rage, well at least that’s what Thomas presumed. At least he was entertaining. He drummed his fingertips on the bar top, ordering another drink. He was going to enjoy himself if he was watching a show right? ❝ Why on earth would I want that? I’m not trying to undermine you. But if you’d get a kick out of hitting me then be my guest. ❞ A twisted smirk hung on his lips, Thomas just couldn’t resist. It was as easy as poking a fire.

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* OLIVER.

“But all the people under our brand in business are like family to me. “ Oliver added pensively. There were plenty of Faust associates he wasn’t related to, but they were still his family to him. “But, you make a point about falling in love.” He hated to admit it. Part of him wanted to argue with Thomas until he was blue in the face, but the reality of what had happened to him was there. Amelia had taken his love for granted, and she was a fucking spy. 

He took in a deep breath already feeling partially exhausted after learning his father was back in town and having told him the very worst of things. “What took you so long?” Oliver asked curiously, “To come back I mean.” He knew that perhaps Thomas wouldn’t answer him here in this place, but he wanted to know the answer.

“Yes, tell me where you’ve been. Last time I saw you..” Oliver furrowed his brows trying to recall. “Was it the docks?” 

THOMAS had always been this way. He was a guy with a tough exterior that so far only one person had managed to crack in terms of love. Sure he loved his family, but it was a different kind of love. He wasn’t willing to change either, he was too stuck on his own opinion of things. ❝ You just can’t open yourself up like that. Even if she wasn’t a spy, it still distracts you. You have a family to look after.  ❞

He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat with the rest of his drink. It was an uncomfortable situation to say the least, and Thomas wasn’t exactly prepared for the amount of explaining he had to do. But this wasn’t the place to do just that, there was a too greater risk if he spoke about anything. ❝ I think you and I both know we shouldn’t talk about that here. ❞

The older man stood up, grabbed his coat from off the seat and slung it behind his shoulder. ❝ I think so. ❞ Although he did recall the last time he saw his nephew, after all, he was the closest thing he had to a son.

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♡ - Have you seen HONEY GREEN around ? I hear they’re THE OWNER OF HONEY’S BAKERY who can sometimes be NAIVE & COMPLAISANT. But I also heard they can be CONVIVIAL & GENEROUS if you catch them on a good day. They’re usually hanging around JAVA ADDICTS in their spare time. I sure hope they’re alright !

hello it’s me again, if anyone wants to plot like this and i’ll hit you up!

Full Name: Honey Rumi Green

Birthdate: July 7th 1992

Height: 1.6m

Occupation: Owner of Honey’s Bakery

BACKGROUND

♡ Honey grew up in the Lake district in England. She had two loving parents and an older brother. She had almost the perfect childhood, aside from bullying at school, she excelled in all her classes and made enough friends.

♡ One of her favourite hobbies while growing up was baking, this was due to her grandmother. Some of her fondest memories come from her and her grandmother baking together.

♡ Her main passion was once ballet. She dreamed of being a dancer ever since she was a little girl. She even moved to London when she was eighteen to pursue it. As expected, it was a tough crowd. It drove her to develop anorexia as she was constantly called fat and felt an immense amount of pressure. 

♡ It wasn’t until she met a Chicago native who helped open her eyes on her fatal dream and convinced her to move to Chicago with them. She eventually turned to baking as a source of comfort and to get over her eating disorder. She decided to open up the bakery and it has been a huge success ever since. She is no longer with the person who she moved over with, but still is very grateful for meeting them. 

PERSONALITY

♡ Suited to her name, Honey is an incredibly sweet person. She is generous, understanding and tries to give everybody the benefit of the doubt, even if they are in a gang.

♡ She’s quite naive. She knows what goes on in Chicago but not really to the full extent, she kind of prefers to keep it that way though. 

♡ She falls for people quite easily and because of her kind nature a lot of people have taken advantage of that.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

♡ The ex that brought her to Chicago: It would be cool if they were in a gang or did some bad stuff that she had no idea about but then finds out etc.

♡ Her best friend: Idk she would probably have a million of these.

♡ Literally anything!!! I’m up for anything!!! Especially angst and drama!!!! Come shoot someone in front of her at the bakery idk!!!!

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* DIANA.

“Oh, come on baby, relax.”, the words had a mischievous edge to them, after all, Diana had always had a way of speaking that meant something she said was never just that, never as simple as it appeared to be. “I’m just playing. Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge as years go by?”, she let out a soft chuckle, “Now that would be such a shame.” Truth be told, she found comfort in these little acts - it was like an armour of saccharine words and sly smiles and vague movements of her body. And one had to have an armour when playing against a man as dangerous as Thomas was. 

“Oh well, marriage’s overrated.”, it wasn’t really. She could still remember the way she felt that day - top of the world, high on power and infatuation, it felt like there was no end in sight. They were going to watch the world burn together, and the match had just been lit, the air quivering with promises of disasters to come. She stared at the glowing red tip of her cigarette, eyes cold and distant, and even the sound of her chuckle grew glacial and detached, “Oh well, we’ll always have alcohol and guns, that’ll have to do.”

“No need to be so fatalistic dear.”, it wasn’t like Diana ever had any illusions about what this was exactly - a thing of hatred and anger and everything dark that resided in her soul, manifesting itself in violent, unrestrained ways - but that hardly made it any less fun. “I prefer to think of it as an investment. Helps with the focus.” Nothing like hate-fucking your way out of pent-up anger. “You’re right, life’s a lot easier when you care about so little. Besides, who even knows what my motives are?”, she finished her drink, “You sound like a homesick man, so I’m thinking we’ll see about that.” 

THE words she spoke sent a sharp shiver down his spine, he rolled his shoulders back to dismiss it, although it didn’t really comfort him at all. There was a feel of suspense lingering in the air. Thomas hadn’t exactly figured out what was going to happen next, maybe that’s why she drove him so mad. He was usually always one step ahead, but not in this instance, never with her.

He just stayed silent, his eyes fixing on the wall in front of him. It was a subject he never wanted to talk about. She had been the only pure thing in his life, and he wasn’t surprised when it was horribly ripped away. The feeling of Diana next to him was burning into his skin, and the longer the conversation swirled around marriage, the more irritating her presence became.

Finishing his drink, he slammed the glass on the table, gaze looking up at the ceiling for just a few moments before back at her. ❝ You don’t have any motives, sweetheart. You just enjoy fucking up your life more than you already have. ❞ Maybe harsh, but Thomas wasn’t here to play nice. 

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For Thomas and Honey

↖ is now accepting curious anons.

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