Euphoria Ashtray Novels & Stories

I sniffed, recognizing the scent as a calming blend that Fluorite sold exclusively to the medical field. There was light in this room and it was a bit bigger than the others with a bathroom and a window large enough to sit in. Sitting against the barred window that looked out to another section of Club Heaven was a young, lithe figure, barefoot and slumped against the window blowing smoke rings with a rolled cigarette in hand. “Hey,” Ashley said, turning towards us. I gasped as the blanket slipped, revealing a flat, smooth chest. Ashley was a man? His face was soft and young. He could have easily passed for a woman, but I couldn’t believe it.

It's organized chaos as how he put it. "Fuck," West whispered. The box of milk drink's squeezed to its emptiness before he tossed it on the trashbin, unfortunately landing on the floor rather inside the bin. He frustratingly rub his palms on his face up to his hair. West leaned the back of his head on the wall slightly looking up. His Adam's apple are showing up, his chiselled like jaw are looking attractive and his proud nose that's one of his assets added to the gorgeousness of his being. All of it are useless to the dilemma that he's facing every night.

The room glowed dim—city lights bleeding through the blinds, casting long shadows over the silk sheets. Elena curled beside him, propped on plush pillows, watching as he took a final drag, smoke curling thick in the cold air. He stubbed it out in a diamond-plated ashtray—seven grand for a hunk of metal and shine. Even he smirked at that sometimes, the absurdity of his own cash. “You’re quiet,” Elena said, shifting up on her elbow, voice soft but probing. Jeremy exhaled slow, smoke trailing faint, rubbing his temple with rough fingers. “Been thinking.”

Was he mean to her? Joel pondered over it for a while. He was. He slapped his forehead. He should change his attitude toward her. Joel took out a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit a stick with his cigarette lighter. He took a puff as he stared at Emily's beauty; the girl was really beautiful. He took another puff into his lungs and exhaled through his nostrils. "Hugh Hugh!" Emily coughed in her sleep. Joel pursed his lips; the smoke from the cigarette was affecting her. He stubbed out the cigarette and stood up. He stared at Emily for a while and walked out of the room as silently as he could.

Alex sat in his worn, everyday chair, surrounded by the familiar comforts of his office. His desk, typically cluttered, was tidy and organized, with documents neatly stacked and aligned, giving the impression that it had been touched for days. A lone ashtray on the edge of the desk held a smoldering cigarette, its thin stream of smoke curling lazily into the air. And a cup of whiskey was sitting right beside the ashtray. His eyes were closed, fingers steepled, head bent subtly as if whispering a silent prayer.

I extinguished the cigarette in the glass ashtray. We have been living in troubled times lately.

" Damien leaned in as my heart raced, he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. Our eyes locked and my stomach twisted into knots, not the sad, frustrated, or panicky type. "I am the stronger man. I will help you stay away from that beast, But!" he retracted his hand and adjusted his cuffs, "You need to help me too." I sat up. What could a wealthy man like him need? "What is it?" I dared to ask. "Euphoria." I simply said and I frowned. The Euphoria Project was infamous. Over the years, many designers picked it up but they failed to capture investors with it. It was managed by one of the biggest companies in Miami. They had been struggling to fix the project to avoid possible bankruptcy.

Young-Jae's hands furiously worked on the keyboard of his laptop, a cigarette clasped between his teeth, and his brows furrowed together into a frown. He was ordering a few accessories for himself, more specifically for his next Livestream. He pulled the cigarette out to blow the smoke out of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair putting it off on the ashtray kept by his side.

I repeated. “Indeed. One sent to that house every month. And yet, the owner of the house himself never knew about it. I suspect it must be some kind of drug, as it came from an apothecary.” “Really? Which one?” I asked again. “If I recall… I believe it was called the ‘Euphoria Apothecary’. Do you know it?” I grimaced a bit at the question. “Yeah. It’s a place that sells homemade medicine. Supposedly, at least.”