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[tanerineluxury]

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[galedekarios]

Hello, big fan of your Gale content um I just saw this post on X that really annoyed me that was a graphic saying Gale would use 3 in 1 shampoo implying he is lazy with his hygiene and that another character was more like that and it had like 6k likes and I just wonder why everyone mischaracterizes our best wizard so much? Generic male expectations? Justice for Gale. He deserved that lavender bath.

thank you for your message and kind words! 🖤

i haven't seen the post you're referring to so i can't say too much about it, but if we talk about the general concept of hygiene and personal care, in my heart i know the following truth:

gale loves his little indulgences and that includes the finer things in life, like taking long baths, perfumes, massages, and the like.

once he feels better again and has the spoons to fully appreciate it, he would have a ridiculously elaborate 13 step self-care routine, beard oils and all of that.

(we know his year of isolation likely led to him neglecting himself, given tara's repeated lines about not eating enough, as well as gale letting his beard growing out.)

in early access, he had this dialogue with the protag, about dreaming of a nice lavender scented bath:

Gale: Time is a precious gift. With time, we may even reach Baldur's Gate, a city rife with magic, wizards, scholars, and perhaps: solutions.  Player: In that case I share your optimism. Here's to the journey ahead.  Gale: And here's to your company.  Gale: Oh, I can picture it now: academies, libraries, laboratories – the assembled knowledge of centuries that may just set us free. Better yet: soft beds, home cooked meals, and all the other little luxuries this wilderness so brashly denies us. Gods, I'd pay a king's ransom for a hot, lavender-scented bath – minstrels serenading as I close my eyes and let the water's warmth dissolve all woes. Plenty to look forward to.

this was sadly cut.

i also seem to recall another line of dialogue in early access where a companion commented on gale using a waterdhavian scent/perfume, which had woody undertones. if i can find it, i'll be sure to post about it.

but still, he still has similar lines in the full release version, like in this banter with shadowheart:

Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. devnote: A bit know it all Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps. devnote: A bit know it all Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. devnote: Teasing

bathing waters, excellent soaps and ablutions at the temple of beauty in waterdeep. the temple of beauty is a temple to the goddess sune, the goddess of beauty and passion.

"Her temples usually held social salons and displayed mirrors for use by lay parishioners. Some of them even had public baths for the local populace. Her shrines often stood on the corner of busy city streets. They would have a small ornate overhanging roof with a mirror underneath. They were used to check one's appearance while honoring Sune with prayer. Some shrines even held perfume and cosmetic items for those who could not afford such luxuries themselves." [x]

volo's waterdeep enchiridion says this in particular about the temple of beauty in waterdeep:

"If you need to refresh yourself during your travels, or perhaps to primp before an important meeting or a night out, visit Sune’s faithful at the Temple of Beauty. Its marbled public baths and mirrored salons are open from before dawn to after dusk. There’s no fee for these services, or for the advice and aid of the temple’s many pleasant attendants, but donations are encouraged."

there are some other banters & lines of dialogue in the same vein:

Player: I want to be with Gale. I'm sorry. Shadowheart: Don't be. He's charming enough, well-read and well-groomed.

there are more banters and comments like this from other companions as well (including minthara, for example), so yes, i think it's safe to say that gale is not a 3-in-1 shampoo type.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #text: asks #gale also has a quadrillion comments about being really sensitive to smells (esp bad ones) #it's pretty funny #i need to make a compilation #also at some point i hope we can address how prejudiced these takes are and what they are rooted in #gale is not the toxic manly man or the token straight bc he has a beard & is mature #and was in a 'relationship' with a female goddess

[heyitsdoe]

A/N - The first scenario of the event, this scenario's prompt was Fake Dating from Machine One of Doe's Lucky Slots Casino! If you liked what you read, consider checking out my masterlist for other stories. Keep an eye out for more to come, and please enjoy!

WARNINGS: NSFW sexual content, blow jobs, praise kink

You're not sure where to stare; Sengoku's expectant and pleased-with-himself expression, or the paper he'd handed to you with your next mission's details.

A band of smugglers had been running black market weapons and ill-harvested luxury items in the area, and the World Government needed to figure out where their base of operations lay. Three islands in that region of the sea were possible locations, given the smugglers' frequent sightings around or nearby, and a two-man team of marines would be dispatched to each one under some false cover. A simple recon. Get in, attempt to locate the hideout, find out what details you could about their operations, and get out. Nothing you hadn't done a dozen times before.

It wouldn't even be the first time you'd gone in with a cover story. Nothing new, and certainly nothing hard for you to pull off. Words failed you, however, when you noticed a few key details of your cover further down on the page.

Rosinante, standing beside you and gazing intensely at the same briefing document you had also received, finally glanced up at your commanding officer with raised brows and a flustered stutter.

"A...couple's getaway, s-sir?"

"That's correct." The man in charge gave a slow nod, eyes closing, before opening them and peering at you both with a patience practiced over years of service. "The island is a known vacation spot; resorts, spas, beaches, and thrill recreation. Quite beautiful, I hear. This time of year, there will be hundreds arriving to spend a few days relaxing from their typical lives. Posing as a couple enjoying yourselves on a getaway trip, exploring a new island with all manner of things to do, will certainly provide you with credible cover if anyone sees you snooping around where you shouldn't. Wouldn't you agree?"

You had to admit, he had a point. "Yes, sir."

Sengoku, now seeming to sense some sort of...hesitation between you and your companion, leaned back in his chair and slotted his fingers together in front of him on his desk. "Is there a problem?"

Rosinante was quick to shake his head. "No, just..." He searched for the right words, swallowing thickly. "...just unexpected, is all."

You meet Sengoku's gaze, who looked at you for your own response. It was hardly prudent to disclose that sending you with Rosinante in particular, under this pretense, was stirring many feelings in you that were carefully tucked away and hidden. Flashes of possibilities in the days to come had you subtly shifting your feet.

Rosinante was your trusted companion, years of experience together saving each other's lives would do that. It was hardly surprising to realize you'd grown to care for him more than you perhaps should over all that time.

Realizing you hadn't responded, you flash a little smile in Sengoku's direction, somehow managing to make it not appear as strained as you felt. "No, sir. I've never been put under cover needing to fake a relationship with someone else is all."

"I understand. This cover would require the both of you to...blur some professional lines, as it were." He gave a sympathetic sigh. "It's not something I ask lightly. You and Rosinante work well together, trust each other fully, and communicate effectively. Given the circumstances, and your dynamic between each other, I believe you're my best shot at infiltrating the island without raising suspicion from the smugglers, if they happen to be operating there."

High praise from the Fleet Admiral. Pride swells within you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rosinante smile as well, and then glance at you to meet your own.

"Thank you, sir."

"Any other objections?" Both of you remain silent, so he continues.

"One week should give you sufficient time to see most of the island and gather what information you can." The bearded man continued, reaching into his drawer to pull out more paperwork, handing each of you a small stack. "Lodging and meals have been arranged for the duration of your mission. In keeping with your cover as a couple, it is, unfortunately, a single-bed suite. I trust you'll work something out in that regard."

Oh dear.

"Yes, sir." You both respond simultaneously, and you desperately hope that the rising heat in your face doesn't show.

"It would be suspicious if you did not partake in any of the recreation the island had to offer while you are there, so consider any of the activities and amenities provided as a means to blend in with the other vacation-goers. I shouldn't need to say this, but," He frowned then, staring at the two of you in warning, "don't get distracted."

"Yes, sir." Two voices echo.

Eyes flicking between the two of you, he eases up in his chair and nods satisfactorily. "Any questions about what must be done?"

"No, sir."

Nodding, he gave you both a confident smile and stood from his seat, the both of you only a moment behind him. "Then see to the docks to board your ship. You leave at once."

The resort was just as Sengoku had described. Beautiful.

A balanced mix of nature and civilization. The many-storied building that rose above the beach and the surrounding trees was pastel-yellow in color, and sporting a large mural of a palm tree on one side. You'd think the salty sea air would have faded the colors long ago, but it was just as vibrant as the day it had been painted.

From your perch against the boat's railing, smoothly sailing closer to the island's docks, you could see many beach-goers playing and relaxing in the golden sand that spanned the shore. A few brave souls dotted the waters on paddle boards and surfboards, waiting for the next big wave.

Half of the island was covered in vibrantly green foliage and palm trees, providing shade and hideaways for romanic encounters with some semblance of privacy.

If you'd been on an actual vacation, this was certainly a destination you'd have considered.

Several couples stepped off the charter boat alongside you and Rosinante, meandering their way down the boardwalk that lead to your accommodations for the week. They'd been a chatty bunch as you'd made your journey here. Luckily, your cover stories had been decided upon long before you'd boarded the charter, and so answering their basic questions about where you were coming from and the usual small talk had been easy enough to navigate without arriving suspicions.

Trying not to look too uncomfortable in your tank top, shorts, and flip flops that was nothing at all like your typical service uniform, bulky luggage bags in hand, you and Rosinante stopped and took in your surroundings, eyes peeled for any sort of sign that not all was as it seemed.

Now that you were on the island with a better view up close, you could see several straw-topped huts peeking out from the palm trees, some tucked away for privacy and some dotting the very top shoreline. They featured stylized canvas drapes that could be pulled apart to view the beach and the sea beyond it, or drawn to shield the occupants from prying eyes.

Further down the beach was a bar, two tenders mixing and servings drinks that looked colorful and likely deceptively potent. A number of beach-goers were lounged on bamboo chairs and sipping on one cocktail or another at their leisure, complete with floppy hats and seemingly no cares in the world.

No shady characters or out-of-place buildings one wouldn't normally find on a resort. So far, no evident signs of trouble in paradise, but that could change quickly, you knew.

"Y/N." Hearing Rosinante mutter, you glance in his direction and catch his meaningful look at your hand. A sympathetic smile graces his face. You swallowed down the little jolt of feeling that lumped in your throat.

"Oh, right..." Quickly, you place your free hand in his, linking fingers together. Standing there gawking with an analytical gaze at the island wouldn't fit your cover, and so you adopt a much more carefree expression, banishing the frown of concentration that had settled there, and let your blond partner guide you towards the resort further down the way.

The warmth of his hand in yours is not lost on you, but with a job to do, the feelings are stamped down enough to focus on your surroundings instead of the spike of happiness that grows in your chest. As if sensing your conflicting, his squeezes yours, whether a reminder to appear natural or as a way to try comforting you, you'd never guess.

Don't fool yourself, this is just a cover, you think to yourself. As much as you wish it wasn't...

You let out a tiny sigh that escapes your companion's notice, smiling face too busy taking in the surroundings.

The sand and sea-soaked boardwalk lead you directly to what was clearly the resort's hotel. Everyone is all smiles, no matter where you look. One of the staff stood in front of the double glass doors, waiting patiently as you approached. With a widening of her smile and a short bow, the woman turned and pushed open the door to allow you to enter.

The interior is just as colorful as the exterior, welcoming and vibrant and tropical in theme. Fake plants—or perhaps they were real?—were plopped in each and every corner, tall palm leaves spanning and drooping to catch the eye. Their waxy texture made it hard to determine if they were actual plants or not without close inspection.

The front desk was manned by a dark-skinned, bald man wearing similar clothes to all of the beach-goers; casual and bright, eye-catching colors. You were willing to bet he too was wearing flip flops. With all the sand around, it seemed the only practical footwear possible on the island.

His smile is easy and appeasing as the two of you step up across the counter. "Welcome! I hope your journey was pleasant?"

"It was." Rosinante gave a relieved smile and nod, as if weary and excited to be here. "Glad to finally get here. We've been looking forward to this vacation for weeks."

You adopted a winning smile as well, looking around as if overwhelmed by the sights, but actually canvasing whatever staff were in your line of sight. Nothing odd in here either.

The attendant looked pleased, closing his eyes and dipping his head in understanding. "Of course. Allamanda Bay is a wonder to behold, and I'm certain the many activities available to you and its exceptional beauty will meet and surpass any and all expectations you may possess."

You finally pay closer attention to the conversation, stepping closer and leaning into Rosinante for greater affect. "I think I read somewhere that they offer full body massages?" You don't need to fake the excitement in your voice.

"You are correct, madam." The man took the reservation papers from Rosinante, simultaneously answering your question. "Full body massages, a soak in the hot springs, facials, mani-pedis, yoga classes in the mornings and evenings...and so much more. Whatever your interests may be, we are certain to have something to delight you."

Rosinante glances your way with an expression that clearly indicated he was impressed so far with the roster of things to do, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest as you waited for your room key to be produced. Your heart thudded as you breathed in his scent, but the reality of the situation was never far from your consciousness.

Stop enjoying this so much, you tell yourself angrily.

Who were you kidding?

"Everything appears to be in order." Your host remarked with a satisfied nod. In short order, he turned and retrieved a key from beneath the counter, a small tag with the room number it belonged to dangling from the chain. "You shall be on the 5th floor. Just down this hallway you'll find an elevator." He leaned over the counter and bit and indicated where it would be located. "You'll want to turn left once you exit."

"Thank you very much." Rosinante said with an appreciative incline of his head, before accepting the key held out to him. In addition, the man produced a brochure with more information, should the two of you need it.

"Please enjoy your stay." The dark-skinned man bid, bestowing the both of you with a respectful bow.

Turning and taking your luggage in hand, you follow the instructs he'd laid out for you, reaching the elevator and stepping in beside an elderly couple who were quietly bickering to themselves about which activity they would be doing first that day. Feeling awkward, you exchange a raised eyebrow stare with Rosinante, keeping silent and pretending like you couldn't hear the warbled voices when they finally exited the elevator on the 4th floor.

The doors closed, before dinging once more and opening to the fifth floor, and you turn left to find your room.

You've both stayed mostly silent up to the point, only speaking when necessary to keep your cover. And your trek down the hallway is also without a word. Instead, you eye the somewhat tacky beach-themed carpet and palm-tree inspired wallpaper leading up to your room.

Rosinante finally stops in front of room 516. He inserts the key and, with a turn of his wrist, unlocks the door to allow you both entrance.

As far as hotel rooms go, it's got all the typical amenities; a bathroom off to the right, small alcove with hangers on the left for placing your luggage, a table and two chairs pressed up against the opposite wall just underneath a wide window overlooking the beach below, a couch appolstered with fabric a few decades out of style, two nightstands, a small den den mushi on one of them for calling room service, and a bed.

You'd been warned beforehand about the bed situation, but it was still somehow a jolt when you notice the single, queen-sized mattress that the both of you would have to address at some point today. But, ignoring that for now, you set your bag on the edge of the bed while Rosinante locks the door behind him.

A quick sweep of the room proves nothing unusual or suspicious about it, nor the presence of any hidden den-den mushi that could pick up on conversations within. For all intents and purposes, this was a simple, unremarkable hotel room, no different than any other.

Once established that there'd be no one listening to your conversations inside, you let out a sigh and flopped onto the bed unceremoniously, arms spread out to either side of you.

"I think a nap is in order." You mutter, eyes closing with bliss.

"It's only one in the afternoon." Rosinante points out, chuckling at your reaction. "We can still get some basic recon done today."

Your head perks up hopefully, looking at where he was unzipping the top of his bag. "After a nap?"

He turns to look at you, flashing a reluctant smile. "Probably not. The sooner we get the recon done, the sooner we can come back and rest. How's that sound?"

"Like my feet are gonna be screaming at me by the time we're done." With a muted thud, your head drops back down to the bed, a sigh lifting and lowering your chest. Your complaints were superficial at most, since he was technically the one in charge on this mission. His several years your senior in the force made that certain.

"Well, we got a decent look at the main beach, but it seems like there's more on the interior of the island and within the palm trees." The blonde figured with a shrug. "A basic recon of the whole island can give us a better idea where to look throughout the rest of the week."

He made perfect sense, from the mission standpoint, however that didn't make your throbbing feet feel any better. "You're right...doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

Once more he laughed, and you savored the sound.

"Just give me a few minutes and we can get back out there." You say, relishing this small amount of time just laying down. "Just to recoup the charter boat journey."

He nods, then as if confronted with what was on both of your minds with your position as it was, he cleared his throat and gestured to the bed. "Since we have a moment, I wanted to talk about the uh, bed situation."

It wasn't a conversation you were particularly thrilled to be having this soon, but it was a necessary one if you were going to preserve your ability to work together without issue. Rolling onto your stomach, you give him your full attention.

He glances away, before returning to gaze back at you. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know there are some boundaries we can't help but cross over in this kind of mission when we're out in public—we both agreed to it when we accepted the mission from Sengoku—but this is one of those things that we do have control over. In this room, we don't have to put on a show for anyone. In here, we can be real. It's just us."

He gestures to the other large piece of furniture in the room. "I'll take the couch. Or, if you feel that's unfair or something, we can always switch off and alternate between the couch and the bed. I'm fine with either decision, but I'll give you the choice."

He flashes you a caring smile, hands raised openly to indicate that it was your turn to speak on the matter. With pursed lips, you mull over the idea.

Your hesitation had less to do with him making you uncomfortable and more to do with restricting your opportunities to see things as more than they were. You knew it would be a little awkward—on your part, of course—being in such close proximity to Rosinante with the feelings you harbored for him deep down. It was a recipe for distraction, disappointment, and heartbreak later down the line. Indulging in your secret desires would do no good. And, in a sense, wasn't that taking advantage of him in some way?

But...you didn't think it fair that he should have to take the couch just because of that. You were both adults. And if you couldn't handle being in a bed platonically, then you were more unprofessional than you'd ever imagined yourself to be.

No. He was your friend. And with a deep breath—and a mental reality check—you shook your head and dismissed his words with a small flap of your hand.

"If you're not uncomfortable with it, I say we both take the bed. We'll need as much decent sleep as we can get, and I highly doubt you'll fit on that couch at all." Your pointed glance at the couch's shorter width makes him reevaluate it for himself, and he winced. "You don't need to worry about me being uncomfortable. It's just a bed. Nothing to psyche ourselves out over."

"Oh...yeah." He slowly nods, giving a rather forced chuckle and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, I've probably made it weird just bringing it all up. I just wanted to made sure we were on the same page and all...Uh, anyway..."

He's adorable when he's nervous, you think, smile widening as he went about doing something to change the subject. With a set lift to his shoulders, he grabs the small box containing your den-den mushi linking you up with Sengoku's office and places it on the small table across the room.

"Better let Sengoku know we've settled in, and then go out and get a good look at the island."

After an uneventful scouting of the island, walking its main trail that weaved through the palm trees and along the edge of the shoreline on the far side—hand in hand to keep up the facade of a couple—you returned to your hotel room exhausted and in dire need of some food.

Room service was, surprisingly, complimentary with your accommodation package. The two of you had shared a disbelieving stare when the lovely woman on the room's den den mushi had disclosed that particular bit of information. How much had Sengoku allocated to this mission? Surely a resort like this didn't come with a cheap price tag...

Since it was provided anyway, you both ordered to your heart's content from the menu provided. Most of the fare was pretty standard, though there was a section for specialty dishes native to the island's edible resources, as well as an alcohol and cocktails menu. Getting hungover on day one of the mission wouldn't be a good look, so you avoided that for now.

With you meals eaten and your bellies full, the exertion of the day began to weigh down your eyelids, and staying awake was nigh impossible. There was still tendrils of light in the sky, visible from the window's faint orange glow, but neither of you could fight the fatigue any longer.

And so, too tired to care much about any awkwardness you'd felt before, you both mutter a 'goodnight' and tuck yourselves beneath the covers.

Somehow, you both made it through the night without dying of embarrassment or causing an incident that would forever change the course of your friendship. Upon waking up that next morning, you were relieved to find that your limbs weren't draped over his and you hadn't inadvertently snuggled into him during the night. No need for a mortifying scene like that. Thank heaven...

Still, you woke first, which gave you the opportunity to see Rosinante in a truly content and relaxed state of being. You'd never admit to anyone that you'd spent a few minutes just examining his face as he lay there, partially drooling into the pillow. Cute...

Some time later, having woken up, showered, and eaten your room service breakfast that left you full and ready to set out for the day, Rosinante looked over the brochure the front desk attendant had given you.

"We'll have to start setting time aside for things that the island offers for recreation, to keep up appearances. We can pick one for this morning, while we think over our next move." His eyes flicked back and forth as he read the inner pages. You smile to yourself, finishing a few things with your makeup in the bathroom mirror.

"I don't think I've ever heard someone say 'let's do something fun this morning' in a more clinical and uninterested fashion." You retort, and he shoots you a rueful smile.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just caught up in the mission. No reason we can't enjoy the things we do to keep our cover, right?" You nod, and he goes back to the brochure. "Says here that yoga classes are held in the hotel's recreation hall in the mornings."

"Mm, nah." You dismiss the idea, wanting to give your limbs a little break from too much exercise a bit longer. Your feet retained a residual ache from all the walking the day before. "Anything else?"

His blonde head turned back to the paper, tilting to skip to the next page. "There's snorkeling on the eastern shoreline, surfing, water polo. Can't do those..." He muttered, continuing on. "All day cocktails served at the cabanas, and a meet-and-greet with other guests at the bar."

"I could use a little pick-me-up, couldn't you?" A little sun and some waves as your ambiance sounded delightful. "Some lounging on the beach, just doing nothing..."

"Alright, nothing it is." He laughs, tossing the brochure down and standing to get his flip flops. "This is certainly the most laid-back mission I've ever been on."

A sigh escapes you. "I suppose we shouldn't get used to it, though."

"Probably not."

The gentle sea breeze caressed your sun-warmed skin as you basked on the beach lounger. A fruity cocktail of some kind in your hand, you sip slowly through the swirly straw that stuck out of the top, tasting the citrusy fruit native to the island and pucker your lips in delight.

While there is the ever-present chatter of other beach-goers around you, playing and walking and laughing to the tune of their own amusement, the rhythmic and subtle whooshing of the waves upon the sand kept your focus.

When was the last time you relaxed this deeply? Maybe it was wrong of you, but despite being on a mission even now, you couldn't help the instinct to forget all of your responsibilities and just take in the sun's rays.

Pure bliss. The light buzz from the alcohol in your glass, coupled with the warmth, had you on the verge of sleep. Heavy eyelids threatened to close and have you dozing off right then and there, but the beautiful view of the open sea beyond coaxed your energy reserves to keep you awake despite it all.

Eyes closed behind your sunglasses, you hear Rosinante sigh out in contentment from his own chair on your right. Lip twitching upwards at the sound, something stirs you to move your arm, reaching over and fumbling around until your fingers brush over his, tangling them together.

You swallow down the excitement, letting it simmer but not show. If only for the moment, you can pretend it all means more than it actually does...

Rosinante hums, then perhaps looks over at your hands linked together. "Y/N?" He asks in a low mumble, maybe confused as to why you had suddenly held his hand.

"To keep our cover." Is your only response, hoping he doesn't press more than that.

Thankfully he doesn't, and simply squeezes your fingers in his, keeping hold of them as you continue to lay there and enjoy your drinks.

If only he could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, fatigue replaced by a guilty pleasure.

After your mid-morning lounging and drinking, it was time to get to work again. Having seen nothing on the first cursory glance of the island, Rosinante felt it prudent to spend more time in the most likely places a base may be hidden, which meant a short hike to the other side of the island, despite your hopes that the day wouldn't require too much strenuous activity.

Hands held as you walked together wherever you went, putting on your best smiles and curious expressions like tourists would, the cave system was your first stop. The resort offered caving tours to descend into the deeper sections to those curious and brave enough to try. But even a quick peek down there proved fruitless.

Your next two locations were nondescript buildings that had been not far off from the caves themselves. Getting inside of them unnoticed proved simple—there was so little supervision away from the main hotel—though a thorough search of both premises proved pointless. No signs of smuggler activity to be found, only equipment storage for the cave tours. So much for that.

Rosinante wasn't deterred, however, and gave you a smile of encouragement. "I suppose no sign of smugglers is a good thing for the island, though unfortunate, given they need to be found and stopped as soon as possible"

Returning to the main resort of lunch, you venture out again, revisiting a few of the next most likely places you could think of to find some sort of sign of smugglers. However, after another few hours of searching, there was nothing to show for it.

"Let's head back." You eventually suggest, once again taking the blonde's hand in your own. By now it felt so natural to reach for it, you felt like you were missing something otherwise. "It'll be dark in another hour, and I doubt we'll have any better luck if we continue tonight."

"Yeah, you're right." His smile returned, and his fingers squeezed yours again. "Besides, I think all our hard work deserves a reward."

Your brows lifts slowly. "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, just something I saw on the brochure this morning." Is his cryptic answer, refusing to elaborate even as you pester him with questions about what he was talking about. "You'll see." Is all he'd say on the matter.

So, following him back to the resort, you change into clothes that you hadn't spent all day sweating in, and wandered back down to the beach. It was abuzz with activity, even more so than it had earlier when it was bright out. Strange. What was going on?

The echo of what you think is a drum beats a steady rhythm into the night. You try to crane your neck higher to look past the crowd of people mingling around, but can't quite see its source.

By now, the sun had fully set, the horizon barely holding onto the last bits of light as the stars emerged and the moon took its place in the sky. Tall torches stuck into the sand lit up the beach close to the bar, and you finally approach in a small break in the throng of people. It's then that you can see what all the fuss is about.

You shiver as Rosinante leans in close to your ear. "I'll get us some drinks." And before you can respond, he's slipped away in the crowd to get to the bar's bamboo counter.

All your attention is fixed to the two dancers standing in the center of the large circle of space the crowd had left unoccupied, large staffs in hand with fires lit at each of the ends twirling and swooping and spinning as they moved in tandem with the consistent thumping of the drum.

A man and woman, their outfits were obviously homemade, colorful garments stitched together in mismatching patterns with shells and beads sewn in. Their faces were lit up with delight as they moved in tandem, bodies perfectly in sync as they dazzled the crowd of onlookers with each and every flick of their wrists. It all looked so precise and careful, yet graceful and natural. Clearly, both knew what they were doing, and felt no nervousness swirling their flames so close to their own and each other's bodies.

You're mesmerized, eyes fixed to the way the light of the flames at the end of the staffs flickers and glides in the air along the path the dancers take it. In the darkness, the feelings it evokes hit you deep in your chest; as if it were so familiar, but experienced once more after a long time without. An ache relieved somehow. You couldn't quite explain it.

Rosinante returning to your side and nudging your arm shake you from the stupor, and your glance up to see him smiling at you. The passing of the flames give his eyes a glow, a spark, some ethereal quality you are struck by. In this light, he looks even more handsome than you could have thought possible.

His smile remains, but his brows lower a bit in confusion, making you realize you were staring. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just..." It's difficult to form any words suddenly. "Sorry."

"Well, maybe this drink will help a bit." He once again holds up the glass he'd gotten for you, a clearly fruity cocktail once more, a lime wedge placed along the rim of the glass. You accept the offer, and manage to smile back.

"Thanks."

"Anything for my lovely girlfriend." He says with a wink and a husky tone, sending your heart all aflutter. But he doesn't seem to notice the many, many spiraling thoughts now invading your head.

You both turn back to the fire dancers, though you're no longer paying attention, instead idly sipping on your drink while you try convincing yourself he was only saying things like that for the benefit of your cover story.

"Pere pere pere pere pere..." The small den den mushi rang, sitting on the palm of Rosinante's hand as you ate your lunch that afternoon, another long morning of recon having gone back uneventfully. Patiently, you waited to be connected through to your superior, munching on sandwiches and fresh fruit while the little snarled continued to drone on.

"Pere pere pere pere pere...gatcha."

You both perk up as the snail's eyes opened wider, taking on the facial expression of the man on the other end. "Rosinante, Y/N...status report."

"Negative on smuggler activity." Was the blonde marine's serious tone, giving you a glance. "No signs of anything illicit or suspicious goings-on thus far. If they're here, they're extremely well hidden."

"How much of the island would you say you've been able to search so far?"

Rosinante looks to you for confirmation, and you lean in to be better heard through the snail. "I estimate 45%, sir. All prime locations for concealed illegal activity have been searched. A group like this would need a large enough space for storage of their goods. We've cleared all structures and spaces we know of that could accommodate that sort of operation. We're onto our secondary and less-likely areas just to be thorough."

"Hmm." Sengoku takes in that info, mulling it over. A series of rapid, dull thumps comes across through the channel. Drumming fingers. Both of you know better than to interrupt this time, letting him think over the facts available to come to his own conclusion. "Team 2 has reported a few signs of suspicious activity, they are currently investigating further into those leads. I anticipate team 3's report later this evening."

Another long pause as Sengoku thinks on it some more, before he clears his throat and addresses you both again. "I trust you've balanced recon and keeping your cover? Partaken in the resort's activities?"

"Yes, sir." Rosinante gives a little chuckle. "No suspicions raised yet."

"Well, good...good..." He cleared his throat once more, and you exchanged a look with your partner. Odd. "Then proceed as you have been, and report anything odd you discover promptly. Team 2's findings seem most promising, but if they have a secondary location they operate from, I'd like to weed it out as well and completely wipe these smugglers from the area in one fell swoop."

"Yes, sir." You both nod and say in tandem.

"I expect your next report in two days time, if not before with anything pressing. Until then."

"Gatcha."

"...really was quite a sight, with Chiyo fending off those awful pirates practically all by himself! Supposedly, they were dangerous, wanted men. With bounties, even! Oh, but you wouldn't have even known, with how easily he'd dispatched of those brutes." The boisterous red-headed woman exclaimed, pressing into her husband's side as she recounted her tale in a buzzed slur of words.

Even if you hadn't been interested in hearing her story, you had a feeling her volume would have dragged you into listening regardless. Which, you think, is exactly how you'd ended up talking to the other couple at the bar in the first place.

"My Chiyo saved my life that day, and my entire fortune. I don't know what I'd done if he hadn't been part of the passenger ship I boarded." She continued, oblivious or unperturbed by her husband's reddening ears and face. Clearly, he wasn't as enthused about his deeds being trumped up so much or so loudly. "I knew then, I couldn't leave his side. It was a sign, that we were meant to be. Wasn't it dear?"

Chiyo mumbled an assent you couldn't quite make out, swirling what remained of his drink before downing it in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender down the way for another.

Seated beside you on his stool at the bar, one arm draped over your shoulder protectively, Rosinante raised his drink in acknowledgement of the man's boasted bravery, an easygoing smile in place. "Quite a story. If only there were more men like you out there, protecting people like us. I'm sure there'd be less of these treacherous pirates out roaming the seas so freely."

"That's precisely what I told the marines when they showed up after!" The woman exclaimed, gesturing emphatically with her half-drunken drink in hand. Some of it splashed down into the sand between you, luckily not going far enough to get on either you or Rosinante. "'Where were you when I'd needed you?' I'd asked them. I was practically left to fend for myself on the journey. Unfortunately, they seemed unwilling to listen. What's more, they refused when I asked that he be allowed to enlist as a proper marine! The audacity...hmph!"

You glanced at Chiyo, who was trying his best to press as far down into his barstool as humanly possible, or pretend he was anywhere but here, perhaps. Poor man. You sip delicately on your cocktail, relaxing a little further into Rosinante's arm. He pulls you that half-inch closer, warming your chest with...something. This close, you could feel his heartbeat...

"Oh, but listen to me, driveling on...how rude of me!" She suddenly waved her hand dismissively, gave finally settling on the two of you. "You make such a lovely couple, you know. There's so much love in your eyes. How did you two meet?"

Your brows raise, and with a nervous smile aimed at your partner right beside you, he gives a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm afraid it isn't nearly as exciting as your first encounter, Miss Tilly."

"Oh, nonsense!" She pressed, leaning forward with rapt attention. "I'm certain it's a lovely story all the same. I'd love to hear it."

"Well..." He started, looking to you with a little upward tilt to the corner of his mouth. You'd already rehearsed this information on the trip to the island, but now that it was being questioned for the first time, you felt your heart rate increase. "It was in a little village in the South Blue."

"Oh, so far!" The woman exclaimed, a hand pressing to her chest in surprise. "Are you both from there?"

"Yes, though from different islands." You chime in with a conciliatory nod. "I left home to attend academy to continue my studies in writing, which just so happened to be where he lived."

Your sheepish glance at Rosinante revealed that he was playing his part well, smiling at you with a look so full of adoration, you found it difficult to convince yourself it wasn't real. When you paused, he took up the rest of the story, breaking your stare to look at your two avid listeners.

"At the time, I worked in a shoemaker's shop. Honest work, perhaps, but a bit...dull." He explained with a rueful chuckle. "I often found myself staring out the window when there weren't any customers. Across the street was this little bookstore, with a bench outside. Perfect for sitting and reading on a warm afternoon."

"Oh!" Miss Tilly placed a hand on her mouth, as if anticipating where this story was going.

"One day, there's this beautiful woman sitting there with her nose stuck in a book. Never seen her before in my life, and I'd gotten used to seeing the same dozens of regulars there after months of watching." His face takes on an expression of wonder, as if remembering the event like it had actually happened. "And after that day, she was there every day after that."

"Not every day." You mumble, pointing out his story's flaw.

"Most days, much to my delight." He amends with a wink, causing Miss Tilly to giggle behind her hand. Chiyo, having recovered from being put in the social spotlight, was sipping on his new drink and listening with less attention than his wife, but listening nonetheless. Probably thankful the conversation was no longer about him.

"I spent weeks just seeing her from the window, wondering who she was, where she'd come from, and what her name was." He continued, closing his eyes in content. "I'd never gotten a chance to talk to her, even if I'd had the nerve to. She'd be gone by the time my shift was done, and I wouldn't know where to start looking for her. The island wasn't small."

"How did you two finally meet?" Miss Tilly asked, no doubt wanting to get to the part where they'd presumably fallen in love at first sight. The anticipation on her face was palpable.

"I broke my favorite pair of shoes." You chipped in with a laugh. "Imagine that."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad they broke." Rosinante mumbled, and you playfully smacked his chest.

"Anyway," you continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "I didn't want to just give up on them. They were my favorites, ones my mother had bought for me before I left for the academy. So instead of buying new ones, I asked around for the best place to get them fixed. That just so happened to be the shoemaker's shop across the street from my favorite bookstore. And the man running the counter was the most handsome man I'd ever seen, which was a plus too."

"She came in, and we...just hit it off from there." Rosinante finished up, meeting your gaze with a look that could only be described as loving. Miss Tilly 'awwed' from her seat across the way.

"What pure love the two of you share, found in the simplest of places." She cooed in that motherly way, turning to Chiyo. "Doesn't it just melt your heart, my dear?"

His mumble was too low to hear, but it seemed to satisfy Miss Tilly, since she turned back to you, suddenly gesturing between you with a laugh. "Oh, no need to be prudish in front of us, we're no stranger to displays of affection."

You realize she's interpreted your shared gaze as a desire to share a kiss. It would seem odd to disprove her assumption. After all, you were supposed to be a well-established couple. Hesitating would be strange, in their eyes. So, after only a moment's hesitation and a fractional widening of your eyes, you turn towards him and lean in to place your lips on his.

He's taken a bit aback, but recovers quickly, accepting and reciprocating your quick kiss as if you'd done so a hundred times before. By all terms, it was chaste. Barely more than a brush of lips. Despite this, your heart was hammering in your chest, adrenaline making your fingers buzz in your lap, but you only smile wider at the older couple across from you, pretending the kiss wasn't setting your lips a-tingling and your chest a-fluttering.

Rosinante's arm wraps around you a bit tighter, even as the conversation takes on a more casual and less personal direction, but you swear you can feel his heart beating just as rapidly as your in his chest.

By the end of your 4th day, you'd reconned about 75% of the island. No signs of smuggling, and at this point, you highly doubted you'd find any. That being said, you didn't search any less diligently despite the lack of evidence.

Still, you could tell Rosinante was...distracted. Quieter. More thoughtful. He let you lead the majority of the search today, face pensive with concentration or deep thought. Whether he was mulling over your lack of evidence so far, or something else, you couldn't quite tell. Something held you back from asking, as well.

Part of you wondered if something had somehow...changed. Nothing really had, of course. You'd simply searched the island as usual, and kept to your cover as usual. So why did you think there was more meaning to his little smiles and more weight to each innocent touch on your skin? Why did you feel his eyes on you when you weren't looking at him? Why couldn't you get your mind off of that kiss you'd shared? It hadn't been anything special. A peck at best. You'd wanted so much more than that...

You had made an even bigger space for him in your heart than it already had, and the unfortunate truth was that it had no place being there to begin with. He was, technically, your superior. A partner, at the very least.

Sengoku would never approve. Fraternization was generally always frowned upon. But really, when had that ever stopped your secret pining all these years? You'd always been a fool like that.

When you returned to your room that night, tired and hungry, you ate the room service food in companionable silence, pondering how the hell you were supposed to move on as if nothing happened after the mission was over.

Rosinante had elected to skip the afternoon's recon. You didn't mind, having become a little tired of constantly walking the island and searching for something that, to you, clearly wasn't there. So an afternoon of relaxing on the beach again was a welcome reprieve.

Skipping the cocktails tonight—after several days of light drinking, a sober evening felt pertinent—you found yourselves walking the edge of the shore, careful to keep just out of reach of the approaching waves. You'd forgone shoes, choosing instead to walk barefoot through the sand, letting it squish between your toes with each step.

Once more, you walked hand in hand, so comfortable with it now you barely batted an eye when he'd tugging you along beside him. You pass by couples drawing hearts in the wet sand, loungers nearby with more couples relaxing in the sun.

Further ahead, a few kids build sandcastles with their little plastic buckets and toy shovels, stacking the towers as high as possible before they slowly crumple under their own weight. You smile, chuckling as one of them stands and stomps on the castle with his foot, letting out as terrifying a roar as a child could, pretending to be a monster destroying the structure.

You pass them by, mulling over the scene for several minutes. Rosinante squeezes your hand, perhaps noticing the faint smile still on your face. "Something on your mind?"

"No." You say automatically, shaking your head to dispel the silly thought. But when he keeps watching you with interest, obviously not believing your words, you shrug. "When's the last time you built a sand castle?"

He quirked a brow, letting out an amused breath. "I don't know. Probably..." Several quiet seconds passed, before he finally shook his head. "Actually I don't know if I've ever built one."

"Really?" The question comes out with more force than you intended.

"What, is that so hard to believe?"

"A little, yeah."

"Well, it's true." He concluded with a shrug. "I don't remember ever building one."

Outraged at this travesty, you let go of his hand and kneel on the sand, gathering up some of the damper stuff into a pile. He looks at you with a slowly widening smile. You meet his with one of your own, gesturing him to join you. "Well, are you gonna help or what?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Absolutely not."

His laugh is surprised but light-hearted. He kneels on the sand beside you, helping you form the mound of sand into a bigger pile. Without the proper tools, there's little you can do to make it look like a proper 'castle,' but with enough molding, you can manage some sort of fort at the very least, you think.

There's not much talk as you work together, hands pressing and brushing and patting over and on each other as you go along. More than once, you catch the other's eyes and smile, before looking away. But you never stop 'accidentally' touching hands as you work on the small sand structure, building up the middle circular mound, and then on the inches-tall wall that wrapped around it.

Little by little, more details came together, with a deeper section in between the wall and the mound dug out to act as a moat. With no bucket around, you couldn't really fill it with sea water, but it served its purpose. Before long, you had a decency built sand castle beside you, not nearly as impressive as the children's, but all your own and done with care.

"Not bad for your first sandcastle." You appraise with an approving eye, sitting beside him on the sand to take a break. "Maybe next time we'll have the proper tools."

Rosinante hums his approval, gaze faraway on the sun as it neared the edge of the horizon. So caught up in your task, you hadn't noticed just how dark it had become since you'd set out on your walk of the beach. Now, the stars were beginning to be visible beneath the light of the afternoon fading away.

Side by side, you watch as the sky grew a dark orange, aflame with golden light. With all the days of recon, you hadn't actually gotten a chance until now to take in the sight from the island's shore. And what a sight it was...truly breathtaking. The sea breeze was gentle and lulling, coaxing your eyes to close in peace and tranquility.

Sensation on your hand has you glancing down, where Rosinante's fingers had found yours in the sand, and linked his fingers together with your own. Smiling to yourself, you look back at the horizon as it began to just barely disappear, bit by bit.

Another touch, this time on your chin, guides you to look back at him, and the surprised question on your lips dies when you catch the way he's staring at them with a yearning that made your heart pound once. His thumb idly brushes your chin, contemplatively tilting his head as he can't seem to tear his eyes away from your lips.

"Rosi." Your voice can't manage anything above a breathy whisper, the sound causing him to swallow and begin leaning forward, the distance between you closing inch by inch.

"Trust me?" He murmurs a question, and you don't even need to think about the answer, dipping your chin in a nod without hesitation.

His lips press to yours not a moment later, warm and gentle and slow as they move in a measured kiss. Lingering and exploratory, it's everything you'd hoped the first one could have been. How your heart hadn't leapt out of your chest by now you'd never guess. You feel like you're shaking as you reciprocate his kiss, pressing forward to encourage him not to stop.

The kiss breaks suddenly, his shaky exhale a rush of break against your cheek until you're pulled back into another kiss not a moment after, this one more insistent and toe-curling than the last. His hand slides up the back of your neck tangling in your hair and pressing you closer. Dear lord, his hands...so capable, and yet so gentle when they held you.

Perhaps you should wonder if this was actually necessary to keep your cover intact, but truthfully, you couldn't care less, heart soaring with each second his lips are on yours.

One of you lets out a breathy whimper. You're not sure who. A tiny part of you says that this was going too far, and the rest was wanting him to push you into the sand and press his whole body against yours.

Shifting in the sand, your hands press to his chest, intent to pull him closer-

"RAAAAA!"

You're startled apart as the childish roar of the boy you'd seen before jumps directly onto the sandcastle beside you, squashing the little sand structure into a foot-shaped indent in the ground.

"Hey!" You say, pushing away from Rosinante to try standing and chasing the kid off, but he's already roared again, running off down the beach with his group of siblings or friends only a few meters behind, giving chase.

The two of you panting hard, out of breath, still slightly stunned from the unexpected interruption, your gazes meet. His pupils are blown wide, lips slightly red from the passionate kissing you'd been engaged with.

Underlying the desire in his gaze, you think you see...guilt? The expression stabs you through the gut with an intensity you weren't expecting. Did he...regret it?

Were you just looking into it too much? Were you interpreting more than was there?

The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by now, the sky turning from a smoky orange to a deep purple, beckoning night to descend over the island. Noticing the lack of light, you glance away and clear your throat.

"We should head back and...order food." You say, remembering that you hadn't eaten anything that afternoon.

Without a word, he nods, standing when you help him up from the sand, leaving your destroyed sand castle where it had once stood.

"Anything to report, Team 1?" The snail asked in Sengoku's voice, and Rosinante shook his head a negative.

"It's our assessment that there is no smuggling activity on this island. We've scouting all areas possible for an operation of their size to hide, but have found no evidence."

Sengoku didn't ask if they were certain of this evaluation, a point that both marines were prideful of. The trust he held in them was something they were honored by.

"Good. I believe we can rule out the possibility of a second location, based on yours and Team 3's information." He said with confidence, nodding to himself as the snail mimicked. "Team 2 has made positive identifications of 2 known smugglers on their island, so we'll focus efforts there and zero in on their hideout."

You and your blonde companion nod dutifully, waiting to hear further instructions. You'd already packed up both of your bags, anticipatory of an early extraction now that you'd fully surveyed the island. There was nothing further for you to do there.

"With the completion of your mission, normally I'd bring you back immediately." Sengoku went on to say, and you frown slightly at his wording. "However, there are two days left in the reservation. Given it was paid in advance and is non-refundable, I'd say it would be a waste for the two of you not to take advantage of it. Consider it a reward for your diligence and good work."

"Sir?" Just as surprised as you, Rosinante catches your eye, sharing a raised-brow expression. The snail's face smiles a little as your boss chuckles through the den den mushi.

"Don't act so surprised. Neither of you have taken a shore leave in ages. I'd say you're due some down time by now. Relax and take the charter boat back at the originally planned time."

"Thank you, sir." You say, unsure of what else to say.

"Of course." The Fleet Admiral cleared his throat, expression returning to a more serious one. "Just don't go spreading around the fact that I let you stay. I can't have the rest of my marines thinking I'm playing favorites." Or encourage slackers to rush jobs like this...

"Of course, sir." Rosinante's most hquirked upwards, amused.

"Enjoy yourselves. We'll debrief upon your return."

"Gatcha."

Without pressing responsibilities hanging over you, and with the island's many activities open to try, you could finally, fully, relax in the beautiful scenery. You hadn't realized how exhausting the constant vigilance had been until you no longer had to keep it up.

Rosinante must have felt the same, because after a morning of yoga, a few cocktails with lunch, and an early afternoon once again getting your ears talked off by Miss Tilly and—less so—her husband, he suggested something on the brochure you'd secretly hoped to do at least once.

The resort's spa was just behind the back of the main building in a smaller one, tucked away into the canopy of palm trees. The temperature inside was several degrees warmer than outside, and the air was humid to promote relaxation, you noticed. The attendant at the front desk welcomed you both inside with a smile.

"How can I help you?"

"We were hoping to get one of your full body massages, if there are any openings?" Rosinante asked hopefully, and the woman's face lit up.

"Oh, yes! Absolutely. Right this way, please." She stepped out from behind the desk and gestured with a hand for the both of you to follow her further back into the spa.

The resort spared no expense on the ambient decoration, going for a theme of peace and serenity. Gray-blue walls of stone, steam rising from well-disguised vents in the floor, and low-lighting left you wanting to sink into a chair and melt. Nothing sounded better right then and there.

The attendant lead the two of you back to a small room with shelves and small lockers. Pulling two white garments, she handed you both one and pointed to a door in the corner.

"You may change in there, and set your things in one of the lockers out here." And with a smile, she indicated a small bench on the opposite side of the room. "The next available masseuse will come and get you once ready. I believe it'll just be a few minutes before the tables are prepared for you. If you need any assistance, just use the den den mushi." One last gesture to the wall indicated a small shelf with a tiny snail sitting atop it.

She left you both there, still holding your robes. And after peaking into the room for dressing, you notice there was no partition to shield you from the other. Obviously, not expecting any issue since you were supposed to be a couple, they hadn't really considered anything like that necessary.

You turn to Rosinante and flash a smile. "We can just turn around and...not look?"

He nodded, surprise registering in his eyes. Clearly he had been thinking more along the lines of taking turns, but now that the suggestion was out there...

"Yeah...sure. Uh, I won't look, promise."

Closing the door behind you, your back turns to the blonde and, trusting that he'd keep his word, you begin to undress only feet from where he was behind you.

Something courses through you at that thought, that just behind you he was in a similar state of undress, but after the awkwardness in the hours after the kiss on the beach, it was all you could do to keep your spiraling thoughts in check. Despite the heat and humidity in this building, it wasn't farfetched to say the heat in your face was from something else...

The rustling of clothing is all that is heard in the room, and before long, he clears his throat. "Ready?"

"Yeah, are you?"

He makes an affirmative noise, and you slowly turn around, spotting him wrapped in the same robe you now sport, looking a little flustered. When your brow raises in his direction, he smiles and looks away, not wanting to say anything.

Gathering your clothes, you return to the locker room and choose two to stow them away in. Then, as instructed, you take a seat on the bench to await your turn. You lean back, letting out a held breath. "I feel all stiff from all the walking around we've done. This is definitely needed."

"No kidding..." Corazon leans forward and stretched his back out, giving a grunt when something popped.

"The masseuse will do that for you." You say with a smile. "Don't go breaking your back before they get a chance to first."

That earns you a chuckle, and he reluctantly sits normally to wait for your turn on the tables.

It isn't long. The desk attendant was correct when she estimated only a few minutes. Before long, a knock is heard on the door to your left, and a woman emerges with a searching look around the room, finally landing on you. "Couple's massage?" She asks, then gestures you back with your nods. "Please come with me."

Similar to the long tiled room you'd first entered through, the room the masseuse led you to was small, private, and offered two massage tables in the middle for you and Rosinante to lay next to each other. The steam rose in lazy swirls, and the earthy smell of incense greeted you. Another masseuse stood to the side of one table, hands folded gently in front of her.

"Please remove your robes and situate yourselves facedown on the tables." The one who'd fetched them said, standing to the side expectantly with her eyes cast to the floor. One glance at the second woman confirmed she was doing the same, respectful of your privacy.

The weight of Rosinante's gaze on you should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't. The dressing room had somehow felt different. Here, within the damp walls of the spa itself, you felt coaxed to set all cares and worries aside. Inhibitions too, it seemed.

Or maybe that kiss just had you yearning for more.

Swallowing down your pride and shoring up all of your confidence, you meet his gaze with a small smile and slowly slide the robe off of your shoulders. The blonde's eyes widen, involuntarily drifting lower to follow the path of the robe as it slipped away, baring more than you ever had to him. Uncovered breasts and the curve of your hip down to your thighs and-

Then, as if realizing what he was witnessing, he yanked his eyes away from you with a clearing of his throat. His hands were clenched together at his sides, knuckles white with effort. You decide to spare him further torment by sliding onto your table, placing your head onto the circular space.

You think you hear him suck in a breath, perhaps unable to resist glancing at you laying completely naked with your ass clear on display beside him, but with your gaze directed to the floor, it was impossible to tell. You see the robe as it slips to the floor, and he too takes his place on the other table, situation himself to be comfortable.

The two women gently explained everything they'd be doing, as well as where on your bodies you'd be touched, so nothing would come as a surprise. Then, with a bit of nourishing oil applied to their hands, warmed to comfort, the massage began.

And oh, was it heavenly! Your masseuse had sturdy hands, the power of her toned arms behind them bringing each and every knot out of your shoulder muscles with little trouble. You melted under her care, barely hearing as she described the benefits of the particular method she was using. All you could recall was mumbling something encouraging back.

Your shoulders felt like jelly in minutes, warmed and slightly vulnerable after having been tended to so thoroughly. All the tension you'd been holding in them had vanished.

Down she went, to the muscles in your back, and as she moved methodically along, her thumbs found and worked through a particularly tense spot. A groan of approval as she worked it loose rumbling from your throat and, a little embarrassed at the sound, you apologized.

"No apologies needed. It's only natural." The woman had said with gentle amusement in her tone. "You're one of the tougher ones to come through here. Not many are this tense so late into their stay with us."

"I guess I...brought a lot of...stress with me to the island." You mutter through grunts as she continued down your spinal column and outward.

"This one too." Rosinante's masseuse mused from somewhere beside you. "Though you feel more tense now than before."

Rosinante's only response is a grunt, followed by a low groan of his own as his own back was being worked through. A shiver runs down your spine, hearing such a sound being uttered from him. Would he sound that way while he-?

Your thought process is disturbed again as your massage continues, though you find the rest of the experience is balanced between completely relaxing into the table under you and picturing a scenario in bed when he'd make such a sound again. It was all you could do not to clench your legs and thighs together to relieve the ache that had began to stir. Not that you could, even if you wanted to. Your masseuse would know, and make you relax again.

Thoughts shifted to daydreams, which were dangerous to indulge in right now. He lay mere feet from you in an equally exposed position. Some part of you feared he'd know the extent of your fantasies if you let your mind wander now. Best save them for when you returned to the base and had some space apart, right?

So you lay there, at the mercy of a woman turning you into putty, hearing the man you couldn't have moan and groan in a way that had your insides fluttering. Dreams probably wouldn't be able to replicate the huskiness, the depth, you conclude. No imagination could capture how much Rosinante affected you in the flesh. Nonetheless, the sound was locked in your memory now, well and truly.

It was bliss. It was torture.

You wanted him. It was wrong.

This mission would leave you well and truly fucked.

You'd first noticed it as you both rose from your massage tables and dressed in the robes once more. Something in his eyes so magnetic and undeniably sexual. They smoldered hotter than the steam in the spa. This time, he didn't look away. All manner of shyness from before was absent. Nor did he attempt to shield himself for modesty too hastily, letting your eyes take in a glimpse of what rested below the golden hair leading down below his navel...

You swallowed hard when the sight disappeared beneath his robe. Meeting his gaze again was a mistake, because the look he pinned you with nearly had you moaning again. You bit your lip, holding back the noise that threatened to escape, and his eyes locked onto the movement. Before the two women around you could say anything, he put on a winning smile and thanked them both for the wonderful service. You're certain you follow up with something similar, but your brain was in a similar state of mush as your muscles.

Dressing into your normal clothes was quiet, but the tension was as thick as the steam in the spa itself, swirling and hot. Your skin buzzes with nervous anticipation, half convinced you were currently asleep on the massage table dreaming all of this up. Had he really looked at you like he wanted to bend you over the table himself? Afraid you'd see something else in his eyes, you don't look into them again.

The walk back to the resort is silent, though you never stray far from each other. Bumping legs or fingers brushing together the whole way, your breath quickens. It's electric the whole way. You buzzed, hyped up on something only he could sate.

It was evening now, and about the time you'd normally call for room service, but food was the furthest thing from your mind. The elevator up to your floor feels like it takes ages. And when it finally dings open, Rosinante is the first through it, leading you back to the hotel room with long strides. You half job to keep up, feeling your own patience diminishing alongside his. Some unspoken agreement has you both wanting to get back to the room as soon as possible.

There's something incredibly hot about his hands shaking as they finally slot the door's key into the knob, turning it with a rough flick of his wrist. It opens in a rush.

You follow in, but stop short when he turns suddenly and closes the door behind you. It shuts with a bang, your back hitting it not even a second after, and his hands plant themselves on either side of your head. He doesn't touch you, keeping himself the arm's length away, but you still feel trapped when the heated gaze you'd seen from him early is turned on you once more in full force. His mouth is slightly parted as he pants quietly.

"Y/N, I..." His head shakes absently, swallowing down as much of the obvious yearning in his tone as he can, but it's futile to hide it in its entirety. "I need to know. Is this really happening?"

"If you want it to." You breathe, deciding then and there that it was too much to resist, denying how much you wanted and needed him. No one had ever meant so much to you, and you doubting anyone ever again would. Both hands reach out to grab the front of his shirt, intending to bring him closer. But he resists your pull, one hand coming off the door to hold yours.

"It can't just be the mission." He insists. "I can't just...have you like this and then pretend it never happened. There's no 'normal' to go back to if we cross this line."

That line was paper-thin, and you were both rapidly sprinting towards it.

"I know." His lips are right there, and it's almost impossible to look away. You pull him again, and he gives some ground, forehead resting against yours. Yet still, he keeps that small amount of distance between you, intent on getting his message across before neither of you can come back from the edge.

"Tell me no, Y/N." He whispers, though you doubt even he really wants that from the way his voice sounded so breathy and unconfident. You can see a war behind his eyes, batting for victory. Self-control was currently winning—only just—though you could see how easily those tides could turn. Heavy lids make his pupils underneath almost entirely black. "If there's any part of you that isn't sure about thi-"

One more tug is all it takes to bring his mouth onto yours, and this time there's no resistance. You're pressed into the door, his lips slanting over yours in a kiss so desperate you can't help the loud whimper that escapes you. His superior height overwhelms you, knee sliding between your legs to hold you in place.

Holy shit, this was better than any daydream.

One hand fists his shirt more tightly, the other sliding up to thread your fingers into his hair. His own make a slow path down your sides, feeling the clothes areas that he'd seen bare just a few hours earlier. You shiver, wanting so desperately to feel those hands on your bare skin...

His knees presses up, putting pressure on your core through your shorts, and you moan into his mouth. He makes a male noise at the back of his throat in response, mouth never leaving yours, kisses sloppy and uncoordinated, taking your breath away all the same.

Somewhere in the mix, you realize you're still standing at the door. Should anyone be listening just outside of it, you're certain they were getting quite an auditory spectacle. With a little push, Rosinante walks backwards, pulling you along with him.

With each ambling and blind step, an article of clothing seems to disappear with it. At first, it's his shirt, the buttons frantically undone between your shaking and unsteady fingers. He's forced to let go of you to shrug it off, tossing it off somewhere on the floor. Once it's gone, you're free to greedily explore the bare planes of his chest, intoxicated with the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingers.

Then it's your shorts, the zipper likely ruined with the speed and ferocity you help him jerk it down with. A few fumbling steps and you've kicked them away. Panties still in place, his fingers find the damp garment covering your sensitive nerves.

"Fuck..." He mutters against your mouth, struck at how wet you already were. You moan as he rubs you through the fabric, sending tingles of pleasure shooting up your spine each time he manages to brush your clit. You reciprocate the touch, palming his pants while also trying to undo his belt one-handed.

The instinctive thrusts into your hand have your head spinning, and you think you lose it completely when you once again hear that deliciously deep moan in response. His fingers pause and stutter their steady rhythm in your panties as he latches onto the pleasure you're providing in return.

Another stumbling step back and he growls something you can't interpret, finally releasing his hold on you to help you get the damn belt off of his hips, which had caught on the first loop. Impatiently, he discards the thing away and it clatters to the floor unceremoniously behind him. The pants are easy enough to unzip and shove down is hips, revealing the hardened length you'd felt hidden beneath.

He tries getting the pants off entirely, lifting one foot and dragging it down the other leg to shuck off the garment, but he loses his balance and falls backwards in a seated position on the bed. With a surprised yelp, his lips break away from you, taking a moment to gain his bearings, pupils blown out and dark with lust.

But this new position has you biting your lip, and you drop to your knees before him, tugging the pants down past his knees just enough to give you room to work with. Taking his length in hand and giving a few gentle pumps, you lean forward and lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

Rosinante swears breathlessly, curling in over you and fisting a handful of your hair to give him some sort of anchor point. Resting one hand on his thigh, you feel it quiver when you swirl the tip of your tongue around the head, stimulating the most sensitive nerves with the barest hint of attention. You're delighted at how responsive he is to every touch, giving you free reign to explore him with your mouth as you see fit, tongue laving his cock with just the right pressure to tease and sate all at once.

And when you finally bring your lips over the tip and ease him into the wet heat of your mouth, he lets out the most guttural groan you've ever heard, head falling backwards onto the bed. Down and back up you go, repeating the pattern over and over and hollowing your cheeks to bring the most sensation possible.

Working him over, you realize he's speaking in disjointed, strained sentences, only catching half of the words coming out of his mouth.

"...s-so good at that...oh, fuck, Y/N...ahhh...none of my dreams came close." His fingers tightened in your hair, the subtle shift of his hips lifting to go another inch further into your mouth. Still, you go on, speed never slowing. "Can't believe...you want me...like this...nnghh!"

The vibrations of your own answering moan has him thrusting roughly once into your throat, causing your gag reflex and blurring your eyes with tears. Perhaps realizing what he'd unwittingly done, he guides you off of his cock, gasping as he fully slides free from your mouth.

"Come here." Pulling you from your place on the floor and into his lap, your knees settle on either side of his legs. Like magnets, your lips find each other once more. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with your own in an uncoordinated dance, hands roaming and touching any skin they could find.

Noticing that you still had on your shirt, he lifted it up over your head, your bra following only a moment behind it. Bare once more before his eyes, they trace a path that his hands then follow, through the valley of your breasts, then around them, until his thumbs slide up along your nipples.

"You're so beautiful..." Is his breathless confession, watching you practically melt into his touch, chest pushed forward for more. "I've always thought you were, but...fuck, just look at you. Nothing will ever compare."

"Rosi..." You moan, both at the praise and the way his fingers swirl around your nipples in sync.

"Having to pretend all week nearly drove me mad. I so badly wanted it to be real." He continued, eyes riveted to your heaving chest, slowly leaning closer. "You've no idea how many times I just wanted to...to kiss you, and touch you. And..."

Instead of speak, his tongue replaces one thumb, circling the areola before sucking the flesh. A shocked sound leaves you, and once more your fingers are in his hair, pressing him closer to your chest and encouraging the way his tongue and fingers had you squirming atop his lap. His arm keeps you from falling backwards off the bed, making you arch your back and pressing you close.

Remembering your position, you use it to your advantage, grinding your damp panties down onto his bare cock. This earned you a scrape from his teeth, a bit of pain to sharpen the pleasure. The second time, he lifts his hips up to meet you, and the pressure has your eyes fluttering with need. The third time nearly makes you cum then and there. The hours of yearning didn't lend well to any prolonged round of sex.

You shake in his arms, as if clinging to him to weather a storm. You'd waited long enough. Foreplay at this point was just edging, you thought.

"Rosi, please." You mutter into his hair, lust dripping from each syllable as you hold him to you.

He swears against your breast, and you decide that it's the hottest thing to hear such foul words from his lips. His hands slide down to your thighs, pulling you just another inch higher up on his lap to line you up with his cock.

It would be too much to break apart to remove your panties, so you simply shift them to the side, lifting just enough to accommodate his erect cock beneath you. Your breaths mix together in the space between your heads, eyes riveted down below to where you hovered just above his tip.

The wait is agonizing, but it would ruin the mood to hurt yourself by sheathing him in a rush. So, holding your breath the whole way down, you feel the stretching fullness as his head breaches your entrance and continues on with every inch the rest of the way. The blonde hisses in a breath, and you feel him tense underneath you, doing all he can to resist the temptation to buck up into your enveloping heat. Watching his disappear into you has you dizzy.

Your heart hammers, thumping high up as if in your throat, and you swear you can feel that same rhythmic throbbing from his cock. Then, as you're fully seated upon him, feeling the length twitch and brush something so deep within, you involuntarily clench around him.

Rosinante's hands cling to your hips, fingers digging into the skin and holding you still as he hesitantly ruts once, shallow and gentle, testing your limits. Your name leaves his lips, soft as a prayer and just as reverent. It's a tight sensation, but not uncomfortable. With an encouraging roll of your own hips, pressing down just as he lifts up, you begin to find your rhythm and pace atop his lap.

Slowly at first, lifting no more than an inch, then two. Then faster, confidence rising at Rosinante's expression of relaxed awe and pure lust accompanying it. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, in disbelief that you'd want him this way. Like you were an answer to his dreams.

His hard grasp on your hips will surely leave bruises, fingers latched onto your skin as he helps you to lift and lower back down onto his cock. The added strength helps you keep your pace, thighs working overtime to ride him like he deserved. Together you bounced upon the edge of the bed, kept steady by his legs planted to the floor and your shins braced against the mattress. It quietly squeaked in the spaces that your groans and gasps didn't cover.

Needing leverage to go faster, you push on his shoulders until he fully lay down beneath you. The new angle and position, your hands firmly braced against his strong frame, lets you piston your hips down and back in a furious motion, managing to slide your slit along his shaft over and over.

You're moaning something, but so focused now on chasing your cresting orgasm, it would be impossible to tell what the words were. Whatever they are makes him bite his lip and furrow his brow in pleasure, adjusting his fingers to get a better grip on you.

It's getting so close, you're nearly to that peak, but already you can feel your energy waning. Sweat coats you, skin hot and clammy. As if sensing this, Rosinante's feet plant themselves a bit further apart on the floor, and his hips lift upwards with each of your downward motions, meeting in the middle with the most amount of force possible, sending him as deep as he can be into your heat.

So close, so close...!

His sudden deep, elongated groan shocks you nearly as much as the way he completely stills within you, cock pulsing with each release of seed that comes. Gasping for breath, he pulls you down further, dragging your clit against his pelvis, back and forth, with the full strength of his arms.

Open-mouthed and eyes closed, you shudder atop him as the orgasm hits you with those final few strokes, thighs clenching against his legs to keep you in place. You can feel him groan as your walls squeeze and pulse around his sensitive length, and eventually the high subsides enough to give you enough sense to gain your bearings back.

The room feels 20 degrees hotter, the comforter beneath you twisted and pulled from how it had neatly been folded by the housekeeping staff that afternoon. His pants were technically still on, pooled around his ankles in a heap. Rosinante's tired gaze looked you over from where he lay on the bed, hands still gripping your hips in a loose hold.

You smile gently and, seeing you now looking at him with a bit more clarity, he reaches up to take one of your hands in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the knuckle. Then, worry glossing over the residual high of his orgasm, he looks back to you.

It's obvious. Already, he was thinking ahead to when you returned from your mission, debriefing in Sengoku's office and beyond when the inevitable next mission would come. Fraternization wasn't looked kindly upon within the ranks, but then again, there were a handful of relationships you could think of that were secretly going on right now.

"No regrets?" Is his timid question, eyes searching yours for the truth.

What a silly man, you think, leaning down closer as your smile widens. With a hum, you kiss him slowly and with no less passion than the one you'd shared on the beach. When you pull back, you press your forehead to his.

"No regrets."

#Corazon x reader #fem reader #corazon #donquixote rosinante #rosinante #one piece #scenario #sinful #one piece x reader #doe's lucky slots casino #one piece event #event

[harlowcomehome]

Concealer and concealing:

Walking into his trailer you were apprehensive, you didn’t know much about him. You knew your client was a rapper, you had heard a few of his songs mainly when they were on constant rotation on the radio but you were somewhat familiar.

He carried himself with confidence, extending a hand to introduce himself immediately.

“Hi, I’m Jack! Nice to meet you” his warm welcome made you feel at ease as you smiled back at him.

You were worried that small talk would be awkward as it usually was but the two of you hit it off immediately.

“How long have you been a makeup artist?” He watched as you set out all of your brushes and foundation shades.

“A few years now!” You hummed as you unpacked your kit. Jack took notice of the over abundance of luxury items you had and assumed you knew what you were doing.

You applied a base layer, answering all his questions as you stressed that he would benefit from wearing SPF.

“Is that your way of saying I’m pale?” He gasped, making you nervously drop your makeup brush into his lap.

“No! Not at all. You have really good skin” You were worried he was offended unable to tell by his tone.

He chuckled handing the brush back to you, flashing you a smile to let you know he was only joking.

“Are you always this funny?”

“I’ve been told I can be obnoxious but funny is a good choice of words too. Are you here all day?”

“After I finish your glam, I’m free for the rest of the day.” You smiled, taking a green concealer shade out of your kit to cover some of his red spots.

“Now I’m not Kermit the frog so I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing there” Jack laughed, deeply questioning if you were colorblind.

“Okay, now you’re being obnoxious” you snorted making him hunch over with laughter momentarily as you finished up everything. He was easy to talk to and made your day a lot easier.

You were only there to finish his makeup, packing everything back up as he went to set, he had a long day ahead of him and thanked you for being his distraction prior to it.

The interaction between the two of you made an impression on him, taking note of the fact that you mentioned you were free the rest of the day.

“Neelam, I need a favor” Jack smiled as he ran over to his manager, explaining that he needed to get your contact number from one of the production assistants.

As Jack finished getting showered and cleaned up to go back to his LA Airbnb, Neelam knocked on his dressing room door with a folded piece of paper.

“You owe me” she laughed, handing him a phone number before leaving him alone.

Jack sat down, pulling his phone out of his brown leather MCM backpack, ignoring the tons of notifications he had and calling your number.

“Hello? This is Y/N with your makeup needs, how can I help you?”

Jack was smitten, hearing your forced customer service voice made his stomach do flips.

“Kermit the frog here” he joked in his best impression voice.

“Jack? Did something happen with your makeup?” You were surprised he was calling you, wondering if he had been thinking about you too.

“Actually I was wondering if you-“

He was cut off by a male voice on your end.

“Babe? Babe? You home?” Your fiance Roy had just arrived home from work, you shushed him as you pointed to your phone held up to your ear.

“I’m sorry Jack, you were saying?”

“I was wondering if you’d be available to do my makeup for a music video I was working on, maybe next month?” He lied, his ego completely taking a hit.

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you, hoping selfishly he was calling for another reason.

“Yeah, when you know specifics just let me know” you faked an overly excited voice as he hung up the call, both of you overwhelmed with disappointment.

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fics #Jack Harlow fanfic

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Products & Services Worth The Save (or Saving On)

Fashion:

Socks (I love the HUE ones that come out to around $3 per pair)

Tights (another vote for HUE – around $10-13 dollars a pair and should last at least a season or two with proper care)

Layering tanks & tees

Underwear (buy them on a bulk deal – I love Skims' 3/$36 [on the pricier end here] – or getting luxury items on sale, especially pair from Natori or Hanky Panky [usually come up to around $10-$15 a pair]; Parade also has $6 underwear that's great quality for the price)

Trendy items

Costume jewelry (Mejuri, Aurate, and Justine Clenquet are great for the price; Catbird is the best in the game for a moderate-priced alternative to luxury jewelry in my opinion)

Beauty:

Cleanser

Facial Toner

Makeup Wipes

Acne Spot Treatment

Mascara

Brow Gel

Setting Powder/Spray

Shampoo & Conditioner

Body Wash

Body Scrubs

Hand/Body Lotion

Hand Soap

Vaseline (use it as a lip treatment, cuticles, dry skin patches, or as a hydrating eye cream)

Lip Balm (Palmers SPF 15 is my HG)

Makeup Sponges/Spoolies

Hair Ties

Home:

Lighting

Home Decor

Artwork (I have mostly Black & White photography from iCanvas and get so many compliments on them!)

Coffee Maker (a Black & Decker coffee maker or a French Press is all most people need)

Everyday Dishes & Glassware (I love Sweese, Smilatte, and Luigi Bormioli on Amazon)

Dishwasher-Safe Reusable Food Storage Bags/Snack Bags

Produce Saving Containers

Health & Wellness:

Deva Vitamins/Supplements

Fitness Youtube Workouts

Bulk-buying Oats, Beans, and Other Staple Foods

Frozen Fruits & Vegetables (when not in season, especially)

Listening to Podcasts via Youtube

TED Talks

Services:

Facials

Blowout

Dermaplaning

Teeth-Whitening

Mani-Pedi

Professional/Social:

Owning your full name social handles across platforms

Simple Investment Planning (Roth IRA, HSA, 401K - anything involving index funds)

Get a great headshot (many colleges and universities offer their students/alumni headshots for free)

Cash-back & Travel-miles $0 Fee Credit Cards

#femmefatalevibe #girl talk #girl tips #girl advice #girl blogging #femme fatale #dark femininity #dark feminine energy #it girl #high value woman #dream girl #queen energy #female power #high value mindset #female excellence #the feminine urge #glow up #level up journey #high class #classy life #elegance #product recommendations #healthylifestyle #health & fitness #fashion and beauty #life advice #life tips #etiquette

[theperfectawful]

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool. 

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

[phone] [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds. 

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is  your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly. 

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously. 

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface. 

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera. 

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party. 

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around. 

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat. 

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass. 

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass. 

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left. 

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention. 

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone. 

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight. 

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed. 

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes. 

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again. 

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment. 

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning. 

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you. 

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off. 

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off.  The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own. 

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

#blind item #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x reader #putting this out into the world and definitely also shitting bricks

[doodle-pops]

Dating Rog Would Include...

➽ The gentle giant is a sweetheart to begin with despite his massive stature, so no need to be alarmed anytime he’s hovering beside or behind you. It’s all in good cause since he uses his large figure to ward off any unnecessary suitors who haven’t gotten it through their heads that you are in love with him.

➽ As a blacksmith, Rog will ensure that you are spoilt every day with all the luxuries he can provide with the materialistic items. From hairpins, necklaces, bracelets, bangles, rings, circlets, anklets and so forth. Even the less flashy items that you desire, they will arrive at your doorstep.

➽ Rog is extremely attentive to everything you say and do. You speak about not having enough parchment paper, he provides. You mentioned that your flowers were having problems blooming, he contacted Lord Galdor to teach him so he can assist. Perhaps you saw a gesture another couple were performing, and you were fawning over it, he does his best to reciprocate.

➽ Despite his voice being deep, he speaks softly around you, always maintaining eye contact. A hand of his would hold yours, thumb brushing the back of your hand as he offers a tender smile while conversing.

➽ When you entered his life, you became his saviour since he had the habit of burning his hair ends often and forgetting to properly tie it up. You introduced him to fashionable, yet simple braids and updos for his time in the forge.

➽ Because he (chooses to) spends most of his time in the forge, lots of impromptu dates occur, and it all starts with you popping up after not seeing him for days or bringing him lunch or dinner. Rog becomes embarrassed that you had to take time out of your day to perform an act of service like that, yet he is grateful.

➽ When it comes to affection, at first, he acts as though he got zapped by a bolt of lightning whenever you place your hands on him. However, as time rolls by, he becomes like everyone else, a giant puppy.

➽ Call him affectionate nicknames with ‘my’ attached to them and observe how he becomes flustered. He cannot hide it even among his friends when you use the nicknames. All you will hear is a chorus of ooo’s and awe’s.

➽ You are authorised to lie atop him for the sake of not being crushed, but the horrible outcome of the decision is that you tend to roll off or he rolls. Any form of cuddling is conducted behind closed doors where he can freely be a giant puppy.

➽ Rog adores dancing with you. He finds the activity soothing and romantic. Just being close to you, holding you in his arms and feeling your head resting upon his chest or shoulder, looking into his eyes, he feels like he won the world.

➽ The two of you are frequently invited to the other Lords’ estates for dinner and parties, as well as balls the King hosts. This allows him to spend most of the night dancing and basking in your comfort and affection.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

if you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link to join.

#rog #rog headcanons #rog imagine #rog x reader #house of the hammer of wrath #lords of gondolin #gondolin #ondolinde #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion headcanons #silmarillion fluff #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth headcanon #middle earth fluff #x reader fluff #x reader insert #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[heichou-ackerman]

Out on a fancy evening with your modern!boyfriend Levi Ackerman

- Levi definitely lives the bougie life in every aspect, and that includes picking the most luxurious, four star rated types of restaurants. If he was snobbish about anything it was definitely the type of cuisine he wanted you both to indulge with, with his argument being “if I am going to spend money, I’m not gonna spend it on crap food.”

- While lowkey he doesn’t really expect you to dress up for these occasions, he might chastise you if you seem a bit too casual about it. This isn’t because he thinks you’re being lazy or a slob, he genuinely wants you to be able to look and feel your best. Nothing too fancy, just no sneakers or crocs. 

- It was really, really hard for you at first to be completely okay with going to these places and having him pay for anything. You’d be intentional about picking the cheapest item on the menu until he got note of what you were doing. Admittedly, he was a little offended with you. 

“I’m not a cheap ass. If I'm telling you to pick anything you want, then pick anything you want. Don’t be holding back on me.”

- Has a huge pet peeve about you being on your phone, even if it’s to check something real quick. Finds it disrespectful and constantly scolds you about not wanting to spend any time with him. He’s savage about making you feel guilty about it. 

“I wouldn’t have bothered paying for all of this if I knew you’d just be on your phone the whole goddamn time.” He isn’t wrong but he’s pretty mean about it. 

- A pet peeve of yours however, is his compulsion to clean up after you if you even happen to make the smallest of messes. He sweeps off any crumb you make, takes any discarded napkins, and has even wiped off the food from your mouth if he deemed it too messy.

“Levi! Stop, you’re acting like my mother.” “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t eat like a child.”

- Not the jealous type, but if you become a bit too chatty with your server (which you are honestly just being a decent human being about it), he starts being a little more snarky or petty about things. He really is a little selfish about the time you spend with him. You catch onto it right away, and once you start teasing him, he gets really pissed off.

“Are you really upset because I was just being nice to our server?”

“You don’t need to talk to them about some shit you did last week.” “Someone is a little insecure.” “It’s not even that.”

“Don’t be a jelly sandwich, Levi.”

“I’m this close to just walking out and leaving your ass to pay for everything.”

-Falls into the classic trope of being seemingly cool and casual on the outside but is secretly panicking about how well you actually like everything. He pays special attention in making sure every detail is fitted to your liking, from the location of the restaurant to the type of bottle of wine he orders. Unknowingly, you really could care less as long as you spend time with him. 

“What do you think? Yeah?” “It’s good Levi!”

“Yeah, I told you so.” 

-Never a dessert or sweet tooth type of a person, so he gets pissed off when you order yours and are unable to finish it. He has to sacrifice his lack of a sweet tooth to make sure it doesn’t go to waste. 

- Is kind of an asshat when it comes to tipping, especially if he thinks the service is not worth his liking. You are able to easily convince him to leave a hefty tip though. 

- Usually the one to have driven to the place, and will always make sure to open the car door to let you in. He will absolutely not let you mess with his radio however, so you are stuck listening to some type of pretentious sounding jazz (though you secretly like how fitting it is to his charm).

-You both have a little routine of cruising around the city/town while music is playing in the background, simply enjoying each other’s company. You totally become a passenger princess as Levi gets a habit of reaching for your thigh and squeezing it gently. 

“Tonight was nice.” “Yeah, it was.”

“So when is it going to be my turn to pick a place for dinner?” “Are you going to suggest some shitty place like IHOP?”

“What’s wrong with-”

“Then no.”

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot x reader #aot x you #captain levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[seafoamreadings]

week of january 21st, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: there are lots of positive aspects for you this week involving the things you do for fun, public image, and the way you communicate with others. and very little is acting against these forces.

taurus: your ruling planet venus heads into earthy capricorn and you get hot philosopher vibes. it's giving, the way voltaire was so into emilie du chatelet and her real love was math and science. you don't have to do 18th century hair but hey, maybe it would help.

gemini: whenever uranus goes direct we all get a bit of the mad scientist vibes. but you also have your chart ruler mercury trining it. it works hugely to your benefit to express all of your natural eccentricity.

cancerians: this week is mostly about money for you. your savings, your earnings, your shared resources, and perhaps your debts. care for and tend to your budget and all of those things like plants in a lovely garden where you are the warm sun.

leo: the sun has been shining (hopefully warm, pleasant) light on your relationship situation(s) and this week the full moon moves to highlight your role in it all. let it be a good one.

virgo: so much happens this week in mostly really good ways. a possible overarching theme to be cautious about though is your ruler (according to me) ceres, squaring neptune in your 7th house. any unmet needs in relationships really sting right now, for you and for your partner. try to work as a team. single virgoans can consider these effects in their past and find ways to improve things in future.

libra: venus into capricorn so she can trine benefic jolly jupiter later on is hugely auspicious for you, especially in your home life. to beautify your home attracts more lovely things to you.

scorpio: there is a very taurean air about the week which may bring you a bit out of your comfort zone without straying very far, which is the best way to grow. uranian activity also suggests being a little bit unpredictable without being totally wild.

sagittarius: if you're feeling a little more settled, slow, careful, detail-oriented than usual, it's the influence of ceres still planting nourishing crops throughout your sign. what she plants, you'll need to water and be sure it gets adequate sunlight. this ensures tastier, juicier, healthier fruits when they are ready.

capricorn: venus in your sign is probably always welcome. she is beautiful and brings love in her wake, and even a stoic capricorn can appreciate such things. she also brings luxury and while you tend to be frugal, we know you can appreciate the good quality of a truly good item or service.

aquarius: under these astrological influences it can be harder to take care of yourself bodily, but it's worth putting the extra effort in. when you neglect your corporeal form your aetheric and intellectual parts deteriorate also.

pisces: a ceres-neptune square can mean that your intuition is not as clear or reliable as usual so proceed with caution. watch your dreams and take in information but be slower to act on it or make decisions.

#weekly horoscopes #weekly horoscope #astrology #signs #horoscope #horoscopes #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Taken Under His Wing

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Teenager!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Platonic (Big bro figure steve x teen reader) In the middle of quarantine everyone is bored or doing their thing like bruce and tomy joining in to help make a vaccine, wanda and vision trying dishes . Little miss y/n thought its a good idea to do cosplay this time its her brother figure Steve she sneakily used his sheild when she finished her cosplay suit inspired by him . Steve was finished doing his workout routine he plans on sketching with y/n only to find shes not there So is his sheild his eyes went wide and ran to her room only to see her posing for a pic and her cosplay she made is seen. Steve is amazed and chill . He and peter showed her comic con a year after she was free from stryker (shes a mutant with fire manipulation) he sneaked behind her and lol got shy" sorry steb had to complete the cosplay 🥹" 

Summary: While stuck in quarantine, everyone does their own thing. Being the youngest Avenger with a power you can't control means you get to stay in a lot. Somehow, you find things to keep you occupied.

Squares Filled: social media (1) for @happystevebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Life use to be freeing. You used to be able to go outside and enjoy the breeze on your skin along with millions of other people. Beaches would be filled to the brim with families, couples, and people who wanted to enjoy the warm water. Stores would be packed with people trying to get their groceries before the end of the day. Life used to be whatever you wanted it to be.

That is before COVID-19 hit.

The entire world was on lockdown. People weren't allowed to go to public places without a mask, only a certain amount of people were allowed in stores, a lot of items were suffering from a shortage because of hoarding, and a lot of people were stuck at home with nothing to do. Food delivery services, online stores, and YouTube have become the future for most people.

For you, it was hell. Crime had gone down significantly since people were scared to go outside for fear the virus would get them. There was no need for the Avengers to save people as often as you did before the virus.

Most of the Avengers all in one place with nothing to do equals a lot of bad things. Tony and Bruce got to work in the labs to see what kinds of things they can create without having another Ultron incident, Wanda and Vision are in their lover phase, Bucky and Sam are seeing how much shit they can stir without getting yelled at by Tony, Natasha and Clint are busy relaxing since they don’t get that luxury often, and Steve is training and working out since he never knows when a mission will come up.

You’re just trying not to get in anyone’s way. You’re the youngest Avenger even with Peter on the team. He’s fifteen and you’re slightly younger at the same age. He’s a few months older than you are, so everyone saw you as the baby of the team, but you don’t feel like it. Alongside Pietro and Wanda, you were part of Stryker’s experiments. You three were the only ones that survived and the only ones that mattered to him.

Wanda got the magic, Pietro got the speed, and you got the fire but unlike the twins, you weren't taught how to use your powers. You always failed every single one of Stryker’s tests and he’d often pick on you. Wanda was the only one who stuck up for you and helped you so when her brother died, you two became even closer.

She’s your best friend and you don’t know what you’d do without her. She’s the reason why you were allowed on the team even though you had no idea what you were doing. Everyone has been so nice toward you since you arrived, especially Steve. He’s the one who you grew attached to outside of Wanda.

You’re not allowed on the big missions but you can go on the small ones with other Avengers. You have to be able to practice your powers in and out of a controlled environment. It’s usually with Wanda so she can use her magic to contain your fire if you ever get out of hand, but you’ve been practicing a lot recently so you feel confident to go on some alone.

You know, if the world ever goes back to normal.

You and Peter often send each other videos of things you two find on TikTok to make each other laugh and one of the things you got really into is Comic-Con. You’ve never been to a convention like that but you’d like to go and dress up and experience your favorite characters with people who love the same characters. They even have an Avengers Con where people can dress up like their favorite superhero and hopefully catch a glimpse of the real hero. Tony, Peter, Thor, Sam, and Clint love going to those places to meet fans and try to fool others by wearing their costumes. The rest tend to stay out of the limelight.

If you were to ever go to one, you’d love to dress up like Captain America after the man who took you under his wing. 

Speaking of the Captain, he’s in the training room focusing on bettering his moves and gaining more muscle like he needs it. He’s been training all week like he has someplace he needs to be, and he’s about to start another set when he remembered what he promised you at the beginning of the week. You love drawing, sketching, and painting and Steve has always wanted to learn how to do that. He said he’d sit down and draw with you if you taught him how to be better at it.

He leaves the gym and showers quickly so he can have the rest of the day with you. He checks the kitchen first and finds Wanda and Vision trying to cook. The kitchen is a mess with food ingredients covering the entire kitchen island.

“We’ll clean this up,” Wanda giggles when she sees Steve’s look.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Last I saw she was in her room.”

“Thanks.”

He has to pass by his room to get to yours and he pauses by his door when he notices something missing. He sees the spot where he keeps his most prized possession which isn’t there. He continues on his way to your room where he finds you in the corner wearing a homemade Captain America costume. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror with the shield in front of you. You’re kind of struggling to keep it upright since it’s very heavy for someone like you. Steve has all these muscles that can carry things like these, which you’ve always been envious of that.

You look over the details of your costume and notice Steve standing by the bedroom door. You gasp and drop the shield on the ground while trying to figure out an excuse as to why you have it.

“I was just--you weren't using it--I figured--”

“Y/N, calm down,” Steve chuckles.

“I needed it to complete the look.”

“You look good. You did a good job. It looks a lot like mine.” You grin proudly at him and allow him to take his shield back. “I thought we were going to draw.”

“We were and still are. I wanted to try this on. I’ve been working really hard on it. Do you think it’s good enough for Comic-Con?”

“Yeah, but who knows when Comic-Con is going to be available again. What we can do now is draw.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I promise not to burn the canvasses this time like last time.”

“I don’t know, the charred edges made it look better,” Steve smiles.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and gives you an encouraging smile. You couldn’t ask for a better mentor than him.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers fan fiction #steve rogers fluff #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu fic #mcu fiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fan fiction #mcu fanfic #mcu fan fic #mcu fluff

[tanerineluxury]

Tangerine Luxury is proof that Indian brands are combining entrepreneurship and responsibility

In a world driven by fast fashion and ever-changing trends, conscious consumerism is the need of the hour. However, the responsibility also lies with brands to develop business solutions backed by responsibility. Tangerine Luxury is among such brands and has emerged as a beacon of responsibility. Intending to break free from the cycle of overconsumption and environmental degradation, Tangerine Luxury has introduced a concept that redefines luxury and transforms how we perceive fashion. Their concept and execution revolve around the joy and sustainability of preloved fashion. They stand by the adage 'One man's trash can be another man's treasure' and thus focus on preloved treasures.

The luxury industry has long been associated with opulence, exclusivity, and extravagant consumption. However, as the detrimental impact of overproduction and wasteful practices becomes increasingly apparent, a growing movement within the industry seeks to create a more sustainable future. Tangerine Luxury stands at the forefront of this movement, challenging the norms and offering a new perspective on luxury.

At Tangerine Luxury, each preloved item tells a unique story. From designer handbags to exquisite timepieces, their collection is a testament to the timeless appeal of luxury fashion. The concept of preloved fashion goes beyond merely owning a coveted item; it embraces the joy of discovery, the thrill of finding that perfect piece, and the satisfaction of knowing you are making a responsible choice. It also makes luxury affordable and accessible because the founder believes everyone deserves it.

FOR SELL AND BUY, CLICK THIS LINK   :

https://tangerineluxury.com/

One may wonder about the authenticity and quality of preloved luxury items. Tangerine Luxury understands this concern and has implemented a stringent verification process to ensure the authenticity and condition of every product. With India's first entrupy verified portal for pre-owned luxury, customers can have complete confidence in the authenticity of their purchases.

The brand empowers consumers to be part of the solution by embracing preloved fashion. Individuals can reduce their carbon footprint by choosing preloved luxury items, supporting ethical practices, and contributing to a circular economy. It's an opportunity to make a positive impact while indulging in the world of luxury.

Tangerine Luxury invites everyone to join the movement towards responsible luxury. Their exquisite collection of preloved fashion treasures offers the opportunity to experience the joy of finding a piece that resonates with your style and values.

By engaging with Tangerine Luxury, you become a conscious consumer, making a difference one fashionable choice at a time. This instills hope that Indian entrepreneurs are on the path of responsibility. We hope more such brands realize their responsibility and develop novel ideas centered around the welfare of the earth. We also wish Tangerine Luxury luck in its mission and business.

CONTACT US   :             

https://tangerineluxury.com/

[email protected]

[phone]

#environmental impact of luxury fashion #fashion business #fashion market research #top luxury fashion brands #preloved luxury products in India #best luxury items service

[silent-dragon]

TWST OC Group Profile - "Rococo Tails"

Sharptooth,Spencer Ryan,Lady Palm

Rococo Tails

A beauty product & rare magical item selling service owned by Sharptooth and managed by his close friends,Lady Palm & Spencer Ryan.

_________

Name - Sharptooth

Physical Age - 23

Birthday - 10/5

Zodiac - Virgo

Gender - Male

Species - Half Fae

Height - 253cm/8'3"

Eye Color - Sandy Yellow

Hair Color - Deep Mossy Green

Orientation - Bisexual

Homeland - Port O'Bliss(?)

Family - Has Ties to the Zigvolt family

Twist of Crocodile from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 4th

Best Subject - Alchemy

Occupation - Business Owner

Favorite Food - Crocodile,Tomatoes

Likes - Cigars,Rings,Crocodiles,Leather,His Business,Lady Palm's History Speeches,Spencer Ryan's Eyes,Money,Spoiling Others,Biting Chewy Surfaces,Dressing Fancy,Yachts,Making People Earn Things,Dogs(Pugs mainly)

Dislikes - Sudden Rain Showers,Sweet Condiments,Losing Money

Unique Magic - "Sandy Suna" - Can turn his entire body into sand he can control and use to shield himself from impact. Can also dry up the moisture of anything that has it with his right hand…if he wants to.

Personality - Comes off as a laid-back chill dude. Doesn't speak much unless spoken too or sees a reason to as his voice can scare you if not ready. He is a businessman and a good one so has all the traits of being sneaky,greedy,and cruel to get what he wants if deal business with him. Has a habit of answering others requests for help with a "Earn It" condition. You've got to earn his assistance/gratitude/love,it's not free.

Bio - A wealthy large biting scarred man that in quite a few port towns is known as "Sharptooth" owner of Rococo Tails,a luxury beauty product and magical items selling service. Loves to see happy customers continue to use his services and invites new ones to try it out whatever they need. He is a good guy…trust him…but never cross him or may get bit.

_________

Name - Spencer Ryan

Age - 20

Birthday - 8/15

Zodiac - Leo

Gender - Androgynous but presents as male usually

Species - Human

Height - 238cm/7'10"

Eye Color - Ocean Blue

Hair Color - Bubblegum Pink

Orientation - Gay

Homeland - Queendom of Roses

Twist of Bentham from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 3rd

Best Subject - Physical Education

Occupation - Makeup Brand Manager,Ballet Dancer,Martial Artist

Favorite Food - Parfaits & Green Tea

Likes - Swans,Dance,Singing,Fashion,Pink,Training,Makeup,Gracefulness,Sharptooth's Grin,Theater Plays,Romance Movies,Making Friends,Outgoing People,Classical/Dance Music,Feminine Aesthetics

Dislikes - Serious & Single Minded People,Unfriendliness

Unique Magic - "Mimic Love" - Can shapeshift himself into perfect lookalikes of other humanoid beings so long as he touches them with his right hand. Has stored a lot of faces and his current face is a combination of others he put together. Doesn't ever talk about this UM as he can't remember his own face any more.

Personality - He has a flamboyant outlook. Always doing the most whatever he wants he is a free spirit. Highly social and loves friends,doing anything with them. He would defend a friend he met 5 min ago from anything. Respects those that show him big kindness like Sharptooth who seems like someone who wouldn't. Is a big flirt as well but waits for others to approach him first before he does anything.

Bio - The secret master of disguise and kicking martial arts. He has a happy do what I want attitude and wants others to be happy too so his friends get all the attention to ensure their well being. He dreams to become a professional makeup artist,theater actor,and drag queen later in life. He always says he is graceful like a swan but also as deadly.

_________

Name - Lady Palm

Age - 21

Birthday - 2/6

Zodiac - Aquarius

Gender - Female

Species - Human

Height - 188cm/6'2"

Orientation - Bisexual

Homeland - Sunset Savanna

Twist of Nico Robin from One Piece

School - Death's Academy of Combat

Dorm - Nakaumi

Year - 3rd

Best Subject - History

Occupation - Service Manager,Hand Model,Archaeologist

Favorite Food - Sandwich & Soba 

Likes - Ancient Artifacts,Archaeology,Reading,Sunbathing,Cooking,Dancing,Organizing Stuff,Listening to Audiobooks,Open Tops,Knee Boots,Sharptooth's Scars,Cute Small Animals,Memorization,Monsters

Dislikes - Her Past,Spencer Ryan(Halfly),Not Understanding Jokes

Unique Magic - "Endless Bodywork" - She can multiply any of her body parts for what seems like endlessly but most seen is like 10 arms and such. Her extra parts can appear on her body,other's bodies,and surfaces so long as she can see them. Usually can see her using extra arms to do tasks/work faster. Can double her hearing if multiply her ears.

Personality - She is very calm to the point it's eerie to some. Lacks showing fear even when she should her face stays stone faced. So focused on history she doesn't get most modern things like jokes or slang go over her head and frustrate her sometimes til she figures it out. Has a habit of saying/thinking of the worst possible outcome of a situation without knowing how disturbed others are from what she said. Can talk for hours about history as it's her passion but that may annoy you if only trying to rizz her up which she has no clue about much as only history lovers tend to stay near her.

Bio - The voluptuous calm history lady as some call her. Has a knack for knowing how the world works from all her research on its history. She almost always knows the history of any object,animal,or person by memory and if not will get to work learning it. Loves her job as it helps her learn new things she wouldn't study otherwise. Not shy to speak what's on her mind and uses her UM in front of others without warning so seeing her with extra limbs is a normal thing to those that pay attention.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #twst fanschool #twst fandorm #oc profile #group profile #long post #dac #death's academy of combat #nakaumi #sharptooth #spencer ryan #lady palm #one piece crocodile #one piece bon clay #one piece nico robin #one piece

[kit-williams]

Warhammer 40k & D&D AU

Initial post VULKAN LIVES STOMP STOMP

Vulkan will go by Vulkan Nocturne also known as the Great Smith Vulkan

Vulkan doesn't do too much out of the ordinary when travelling with his brothers, getting a portable forge, and making things is what he does so it's not too out of the ordinary for Vulkan

When he splits off from his brothers he is captured by the Drow

Of course this enrages Vulkan but he discovers the people he is in captivity with are a whole tribe of orcs and they speak of their chieftan with awe but worry.

Vulkan frees himself and the orcs as he rampages through the slave holding area freeing humans and working his way to the temple of lolth. There he found the chieftess and freed her.

Vulkan tried his best to get everyone out of there alive but there were many casualties

He collapsed the cave entrance they ran out of to buy themselves time to escape the drow.

Eventually the humans split off and Vulkan accompanied the orc tribe back to their home territory

Chieftess Ulna was rather frustrated about something just saying the Drow had cursed her with some sort of magic but once they returned home she would be able to fix it all.

Vulkan endeared himself to Ulna; he wasn't the most comfortable with Orcs as most of the brothers were still rather xenophobic but for many of them it was a lot easier for the humanoid races to just think of them as abhumans; I mean they could also interbreed so they had to have some common ancestor or relative, right?

But he continued to integrate himself with the tribe enjoying the company and being useful in making gear and weapons for them as they talked about their neighbors but Chieftess Ulna was the strongest and would protect them; he found their unwavering belief in Ulna akin to how his sons just utterly believed in him

When they returned to the territory, Vulkan was an honorary member of the tribe and Ulna had him follow her to claim a reward and then he could depart; Vulkan was a little hurt in remembering his promise to only lead them to their destination and leaving but he felt like her was back home and would talk to Ulna to change this.

They got to a cave full of gold, suits of armor, weapons, and countless magic items laid about as Vulkan looked around as Ulna was grabbing something.

Him and his brothers had yet to actually fight a dragon but this cave was suspiciously like how they were told what a lair was like.

'You know Vulkan... you were a pleasent company so you will be rewarded. I will let you know my name.' Ulna said sighing in relief as the magic rolled over her breaking the seal the Drow placed on her. 'My name is Migheth' Vulkan looked to Ulna now Migheth as he was certain that was the name of a powerful female red dragon. He watched her walk with a new sway in her hips that he did appreciate but Vulkan knew something was wrong... she walked behind a pillar and what walked out on the other side was a lumbering Dragoness. She sighed finally in her own skin again as she laid on her hoard, 'I will give you one gift for your service. The luxury of giving me a half dragon.'

Either Vulkan tricks her into being her husband till he dies or some other way but Migheth finds herself endeared to the smith and doesn't want to give him up.

They have a half dragoness named Ember Nocturne; she doesn't realize she is a half dragon and takes up a normal appearance as a half orc.

Migheth is close to being an Ancient Red Dragoness so she has some quirks about her and she is in the mood of just being seen as an Orc

#Vulkan #warhammer 40k #d&d #AU #crossover #Warhammer 40k AU #Primarch #Primarchs #Vulkan lives

[elegantlaundry]

The Unmatched Elegance of Elegant Laundry's Individual Wash and Fold Service in Dubai

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The beauty of this service lies in its approach—an approach that recognizes each clothing item as an entity with its own narrative. Highly skilled and dedicated laundry artisans at our Laundry Shop handle each piece with a level of care and attention that goes beyond conventional cleaning methods. Their expertise ensures that your clothes not only receive meticulous treatment but also prolongs their lifespan, retaining their original allure.

The cornerstone of our Individual Wash and Fold Service is its Personalized Care. Acknowledging that wardrobes are extensions of individual personalities; this service is tailored to cater to the distinct needs of various fabrics and garments. Whether it's a delicate silk blouse or a cozy cashmere sweater, the team's profound understanding of different materials ensures that each piece receives bespoke care, enhancing its longevity.

At its core, our commitment to quality, convenience, and personalized attention sets a new benchmark in the realm of laundry services. The company comprehends that clothes hold not just material value but also sentimental significance. This understanding fuels our dedication to providing impeccable results. Entrusting Elegant Laundry with your laundry needs means experiencing meticulous attention to detail, industry expertise, and a devotion to maintaining the impeccable quality of your garments.

We invite you to experience the refined elegance of our Individual Wash and Fold Service—an oasis where convenience converges with flawless quality. Here, your garments receive not just cleaning but a rejuvenating treatment that preserves their beauty and uniqueness.

#ElegantLaundry #IndividualWashAndFold #GarmentCare #QualityCleaning #LaundryExperts #LaundryLuxury

[transparentkittenheart]

Inwas tagged for bg3weddingseason by @gale-force-storm

This is an Astarion x named Durge ramble. 💉💉💉

Astarion x Vienna

1: Weddings or something else?- What do the characters think about weddings or marriages? If not a wedding, would they acknowledge their relationship in a different kind of ceremony?

Vienna and Astarion were both discouraged from thinking about marriage, or really anything domestic. Astarion being a spawn under Cazador didn’t leave any room for anything but borderline delusional fantasy. Thoughts of being rescued and romanced were snuffed out within his first few decades of slavery.  At the same time Vienna being a Bhaal spawn meant that any marriage would be purely a power play, and even that wouldn’t be a necessary step in her life. Her fantasies were kept drenched in violence and gore, romance was hardly interesting to her.  

However, after the two of them are freed from their former masters, as well as their tadpoles these once ridiculous ideas don’t seem so ridiculous anymore. 

Astarion would be the first one to really consider a wedding. His pet names for Vienna are often in a possessive: My dear, my sweet, my love. To be completely honest there's a bit of selfishness in his mind. He wants Vienna all to himself, and he wants everyone else to know that. Being able to say “That's my wife.” is extremely appealing.

Of course Astarion has sweetness as well, he genuinely wants to see Vienna dressed so prettily. She's so beautiful already she would be a picture really, unreal; an ethereal hellion. She would deserve to experience a wedding, something that they were both denied as an option for both of their entire lives. 

Vienna doesn’t let herself consider it. She’s content with how things are. Her druidic philosophies tell her that most creatures don’t wed, and what is she but an exceptionally odd creature? Is someone like her even really deserving of something so domestic? Surely not. 

It's only when Astarion starts planting the idea that she begins to really give it thought. They pass by dress shops with wedding gowns in the windows. “Ah, don’t bother looking at that one my dear, it's tailored so poorly. Honestly, it must be someones sorry first attempt.” and “You would be such a treasure in that one don’t you think?” It’s anything but subtle, and all she can do is nervously nod or shug her shoulders.

It would take her a while for her to really feel comfortable with Astarions occasional pushes of imagination. Given enough time though, she gets excited to play these little games of his. “Which one of these do you think would look best with blood dripping down my neck?” As she motions towards the puncture wounds that have since become permanent scars from the constant use. Marriage is finally something she can envision. 

 

23: Honeymoon - Does the couple take a honeymoon anywhere?

The two of them are both from Baldur's Gate and despite both of their hardships they still love it there.

They do a lot of nightlife activities. Go to music shows, clubs, bars, fancy places to eat for Vienna (Astarion used to get jealous watching her eat, but he really enjoys it now.), Astarion cheats at gambling which they both find to be incredibly hilarious. The two of them aren’t able to leave the underdark very often so they make sure to stock up on luxury’s they both miss. Clothes shopping, specialty  soaps, lotions, food and tea items that are difficult to get. They also spend a lot of time at the beach or on a cliff side. Wherever they go, shenanigans follow. 

During the day the two of them rest, canoodle and generally laze about. Perhaps they get visits from their old companions. They definitely get too much room service to the annoyance of the employees. They don’t tip, and honestly the two of them look a little uncanny, wide eyed in the dark with curtains and blankets nailed over the windows. They give the staff the creeps, and the crew definitely draw straws to decide who needs to cater to the couple. 

Astarion unquestionably leaves the Underdark responsibilities to someone else for the next few weeks to the dismay of everyone. He gives them a sending stone and tells them to contact him if things get out of hand, but he immediately stuffs it in a drawer at the inn they’re staying at. If the stone gets too loud Vienna chucks it out the window and Astarion applauds her for it. “Ah, bravo my love, you certainly know how to respond to a cry for help.”

#bg3weddingseason #astarion #bg3 #astarionxdurge #astarionxvienna #named durge #durge oc #shes a teifling druid #i realize i didnt really clarify #romance

[shrewmingledotcom]

hajunayu love langauge is so interesting to look at like i feel like their love languages are vastly different from each other hajun's love language is entirely through his actions, body language and gifts. like nayuta could casually tell hajun that he's in debt and hajun would pay it off for him immediately or hajun would buy nayuta a lot of luxurious items for him (to which nayuta would rarely wear) and maybe buy one extra for kanata. but i feel like truly deep down, hajun who doesn't wanna be vulnerable wouldn't express his love thorugh words?? hes a man entirely of actions but on the rare occasion that nayuta is asleep he would whisper a couple of "i love yous" and caress his face gently (nayuta is totally awake lmao) he would do it in secret, he would admire nayuta while sleeping. i also feel like hajun is also like possessive/protective (knowing how he was towards anne in the beginning with allen) like he would physically have his hand on nayuta's shoulder or at least try to wrap his hands around him or just straight up stand behind nayuta nayuta's love language on the other hand is acts of service. like i know for a fact nayuta who is the chef between him and kanata would cook a lot and let hajun try his cooking. knowing that the both of them cook, i bet hajun teases him about his cooking and nayuta tries to prove to him he's a better chef (hajun will eat absolutely anything nayuta cooks) nayuta would also tease the hell of hajun. hajun would get flustered easily with how his little rat is super good at joke flirting. nayuta would pull a lot of joke flirting remarks at hajun. however when hajun finally flirts back nayuta is completely caught of guard and surprised. i also feel like nayuta's other forms of love language is words of affirmation. when hajun is vulnerable and really lets loose of his feelings nayuta would do his best to cheer him up by simply being there or giving him words of affirmation or just them cuddling. anyways yeah they r so in love ur honor

#i have so many thoughts about this #like a LOT #like s omuch thoughts its fuckign insane #okay but i wil make an entirely different post on hajunayu cuddling #like can u imagine that #the size different is insane between the two of them too #paradox live #paralive #pararai #hajunayu #nayuhaju #48nayu