#luxury dog products

[doodlecouture]

Unleash Elegance and Functionality: Choosing the Perfect Luxury Waste Bag Holder for Your Pup

Owning a furry companion comes with a bundle of joys and responsibilities. From choosing the right food to the perfect playtime activities, every decision reflects your care and commitment towards your furry friend. One often overlooked yet crucial aspect is managing waste during walks and outings. This is where a luxury waste bag holder for dogs steps in, seamlessly merging functionality with style. In this guide, we'll explore the world of luxury waste bag holders for dogs, discussing their benefits, features, and how to select the ideal one for your precious pup.

The Benefits of a Luxury Waste Bag Holder

Keeping your pup's outdoor excursions clean and hygienic is not only a considerate gesture towards your community but also vital for your pup's health. Luxury waste bag holders are designed to cater to both these aspects while adding a touch of elegance to your pet's accessories.

1. Functionality Meets Style

Luxury waste bag holders boast not only functionality but also high-end aesthetics. Crafted from premium materials, these holders often feature exquisite designs and fine detailing, making them a statement piece during walks. They seamlessly integrate into your pup's ensemble, elevating their overall appearance.

2. Convenience on the Go

Equipped with easy-to-access compartments and attachment options, luxury waste bag holders ensure that you're always prepared during outdoor adventures with your dog. Most holders come with ample storage space, allowing you to store not only waste bags but also small essentials like keys, treats, or even your smartphone.

3. Durability and Longevity

Investing in a luxury waste bag holder is a commitment to quality. These holders are crafted from durable materials that can withstand the rigors of daily walks and changing weather conditions. The investment pays off in the long run as you won't have to frequently replace cheap, flimsy alternatives.

Selecting the Perfect Luxury Waste Bag Holder

Choosing the right luxury waste bag holder for your dog involves a few key considerations to ensure that both functionality and style are met harmoniously.

1. Size and Compatibility

Consider the size of your dog when selecting a waste bag holder. It should be proportionate to your pup's size and body structure. Additionally, check for compatibility with your dog's harness or collar. Many luxury holders come with versatile attachment options, allowing you to choose what suits your dog best.

2. Material Quality

The material of the waste bag holder greatly influences its durability and appearance. Look for holders made from premium materials such as genuine leather, high-quality fabrics, or even sustainable alternatives like vegan leather. These materials not only ensure longevity but also contribute to the holder's luxurious look.

3. Design and Aesthetics

Luxury waste bag holders come in a variety of designs, from minimalist to ornate. Consider your personal style and your dog's personality when choosing a design. Whether you prefer a classic, timeless look or a modern, eye-catching design, there's a luxury holder to match your preferences.

4. Practicality and Features

Functionality should never be compromised for style. Ensure the waste bag holder has practical features such as easy access to waste bags, secure closures, and additional storage compartments. Some holders even come with built-in dispensers, making it incredibly convenient to pull out waste bags when needed.

5. Cleaning and Maintenance

A luxury waste bag holder that's difficult to clean might lose its appeal over time. Opt for a holder that's easy to wipe clean or can be gently hand-washed. This ensures that the holder maintains its elegance throughout your dog's many adventures.

Conclusion

A luxury waste bag holder for dogs is more than just an accessory; it's a testament to your dedication towards your furry companion's comfort and well-being. By combining practicality with style, these holders enrich your pup's outdoor experiences while reflecting your unique taste. When choosing the perfect luxury waste bag holder, remember to consider factors like size, material quality, design, practicality, and cleaning ease. With the right holder in hand, you're ready to hit the streets with your pup, exuding elegance and confidence every step of the way.

[insight-pet-australia]

7 Luxury Products for Dog Owners

Here are five luxury dog products for owners if you're looking to spoil your furry best friend by looking for dog products online.

From designer dog beds to personalized gifts and accessories, you're sure to find something you and your pup will love.

1. Designer Dog Beds: Pamper your pet with a plush designer dog bed. Choose from a wide selection of sizes, styles, and fabrics to suit your pup's style.

2. Personalized Accessories: From checkered tie collars to custom-engraved dog id tags, give your pup a personal touch with personalized accessories.

3. Luxury Toys: Keep your pup entertained with interactive toys such as treat dispensers and robotic balls. Look for toys made from quality materials that are safe for your pet.

4. Designer Collars and Leashes: Show off your pup's fashion sense with a luxury collar and leash set. You can find a variety of styles and colors, so you're sure to find one that's perfect for your furry friend.

5. Gourmet Dog Treats: Reward your pup with gourmet dog treats. Look for treats made with natural, organic ingredients that are free from artificial preservatives and additives.

Some bonuses:

6. Automatic Feeder and Water Dispenser

An automatic feeder and water dispenser is a great investment if you're always on the go and can't always be there to feed your dog. The Pet Safe Automatic Feeder and Water Dispenser can be set to dispense food and water at programmed intervals, so your pup never goes hungry or thirsty.

7. Luxury Dog Harness

A luxury harness for dogs is a must-have if your dog likes to take long walks or go on hikes. The My Pet's Harness is made of durable, all-weather materials and features comfortable padding and multiple adjustment points for a perfect fit matter your budget, there's sure to be a luxury dog products for owners that your pup will love.

No matter which luxury products you choose for your pup, you're sure to make their tail wag joyfully!

[11oh1]

[voguegenics]

Revolutionize Your Pet's Sleep with Wash 'n Zip Beds

Meet the Wash 'n Zip Pet Bed—the only bed you’ll ever need to wash! 🧼✨ #WashnZipPetBeds #PetCareEssentials #CleanPetBeds #PetLovers #PetParentHacks #DogLife #CatLife #FurryFriends #PetComfort #PetAccessories #PetHealth #PetBedUpgrade #PetFriendly

Let’s talk about your furry friend’s most sacred place—their bed. You know, that cushy square where they spend half the day pretending to be innocent angels, despite knocking over your favorite plant or “taste-testing” your shoes. But as much as we love our fur babies, their beds? Not so much. Enter Wash ‘n Zip Pet Beds—the genius invention your pet didn’t know they needed but will soon refuse to…

[celementablogs]

Plush Pup Paradise: Bonne et Filou's Playful Canine Companion

Dive into the world of Bonne et Filou's plush dog toys—a symphony of squeaks, whimsical designs, and endless fun for your furry friend. Crafted with love and care, these toys are not just playthings but a delightful experience for your pet.

1. Large Plush Squeaky Dog Toy Set:

Embark on grand adventures with oversized fun. The large plush set offers a blend of squeaks and soft textures, turning playtime into a canine carnival.

2. Macaron Magic - Squeaky Dog Toy:

Treat your pup to the charm of macarons—colorful, squeaky, and a healthy indulgence. It's playtime, redefined with a touch of sweetness.

3. Red Heel Squeaky Dog Shoe Toy:

Step into canine fashion with chic shoe-inspired toys. Perfect for small companions, these toys add flair to playtime with every stylish step.

4. Wine Bottle Squeaky Dog Plush Toy:

Uncork the fun with wine bottle-shaped squeaky toys. A dash of humor and a touch of luxury make playtime sophisticated and entertaining.

5. Small Plush Squeaky Dog Toy Set:

Compact and delightful, the small plush set caters to pint-sized joy. Big on entertainment, it's perfect for smaller companions with a taste for fun.

6. Woof Clicquot - Pawty Set:

Join the celebration with the Pawty Set. It's a festival of toys—bringing joy, festivity, and a touch of canine glamour to your pet's playtime.

Conclusion:

Bonne et Filou's plush toys aren't just toys; they're an invitation to a world of canine indulgence. Treat your pup to the joy, laughter, and sophistication woven into every squeak and playful moment. Because playtime should be as extraordinary as your furry friend.

[fidogo]

thinking about Ghost as a recently freed gladiator

(18+ for some explicit content at the end, also this is just some thoughts so may develop into something with more substance l8r lol)

Gladiator Ghost earns his freedom and sticks around Rome since he sure as shit doesn't want to go home, and wants to help train Soap and Gaz so they survive the Colosseum (like Price did with him).

But he's having trouble adjusting to freedom. Hell, he wears a toned-down version of his helmet in public. It keeps people at arm's length, but the stares follow him everywhere he goes. Better his stupid mask than his scarred face...

But now, he's stuck at a stall staring at two different types of olive oils that the vendor swears are popular choices (The oil that was given to the gladiators to clean themselves was some cheap, generic, crap, and he sure as shit doesn't know what they bought).

Suddenly, you crop up next to him, telling him not to buy that, and you whisk him to an upscale taberna and buy him a fancy little amphorae of olive oil as a celebratory gift for winning his freedom. "If you're hoping for anonymity, my dear Ghost, your fortune may improve if you leave your helm in the arena."

He barely had time to process before you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him with nothing but an I'll see you around the Colosseum.

But Ghost can't stop thinking of you.

Most Romans cowered before him. He's a massive brute who they've watched sow carnage and violence for years, he can hardly blame them. Watching a beast in a cage is amusing. Sharing a bathhouse with that same beast is something else.

You had been so soft and pretty, draped in expensive silk. You had been a brave little thing, walking right up to a known killer, but he had followed you like a dog.

He wants to sink his teeth into you.

He lets the oil you bought him run down his abs and drip onto his cock, stroking himself harshly. The oil feels luxurious on his skin, and a pleasant aroma wafts towards him. This was a quality product, must be why you liked it...

He's rough with himself, rougher than you would be. And his hands are calloused and tough. He imagines your head leaned against his thigh, one soft hand stroking his cock and the other fondling his balls.

He cums embarrassingly hard, letting his groans reverberate around his tiny apartment. The insulae was loud enough, his neighbors wouldn't care.

He dozes on his shitty bed, rubbing the mixture of oil and cum into his skin. It's gross, but he's been covered in worse. And he feels his cock twitch when his thoughts stray towards you again.

He'll nap, jack off again, and just clean up after.

Ghost hopes you meant it, that he'd see you at the Colosseum.

He's got every intention of fucking you if you'll let him. He'll gladly be your hound. He drifts off to thoughts of you riding him, your hand around his throat.

[pedgito]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.

content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)

word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)

“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”

The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.

He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.

“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”

“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”

“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”

“You’ve gotta get to know him—”

“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”

“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”

You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.

“How much?”

“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.

Silence stretches.

“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”

“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”

“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”

-

You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.

Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something. 

You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.

It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit. 

The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.

The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.

You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.

“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”

The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.

“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”

“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”

You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously. 

“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”

He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.

Jesus, okay.

You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”

“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.

“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”

“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.

“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”

It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.

He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.

Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.

After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.

“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”

“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Highly unlikely, you think.

He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.

“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.

“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.

Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.

“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”

His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.

“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”

“Think?”

You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”

Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.

“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”

“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.

“Blame your agent, Lucien.”

He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise. 

Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly. 

He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.

It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.

—

The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.

Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.

He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess. 

The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman. 

You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident? 

He had to, right?

He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.

Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.

He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”

“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”

“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”

“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.

“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”

His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.

“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”

You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”

James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.

But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity. 

“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”

Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.

He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.

-

“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”

And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”

“I’m genuine.”

James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.

“I am.”

Only time would tell, really.

By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.

Lock the door.

The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.

Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.

You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.

Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.

But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.

Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.

“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”

“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”

“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”

You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.

“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”

“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”

He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.

“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.

“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”

You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.

“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.

It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…

“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”

“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”

“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.

“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”

You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”

“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”

You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.

“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”

-

Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.

He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.

Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.

He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.

“Is it for an audition?”

“How’d you know?”

“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”

Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.

“Just ask,” You tell him.

“You any good?”

It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.

“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.

It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.

“Do you have them memorized?” 

Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”

You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”

Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.

–

You could keep up, that much was obvious.

Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role. 

It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.

He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.

“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.

“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”

“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”

You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.

“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.

“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”

Your face twitches, actually twitches.

“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”

And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.

Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.

You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.

It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.

Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.

“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.

You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.

“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.

Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.

You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.

–

Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.

You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.

“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”

Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…

“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.

“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”

“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”

 “Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”

“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”

“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”

Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat. 

It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.

It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.

His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings. 

Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.

And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.

You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.

Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action. 

He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.

He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”

You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave? 

You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.

He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.

“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”

It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.

“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”

—

He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.

“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.

“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.

You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”

You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”

Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.

“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.

“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.

“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”

You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”

Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”

Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him. 

“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”

“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”

“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”

“Fine, enlighten me, then.”

“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.

“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, “I’m—just, thank you.”

“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.

You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”

“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”

“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“

You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.

He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”

You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll. 

He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on. 

There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation. 

—

The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.

It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.

Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.

“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.

You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.

“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”

Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”

“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”

There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.

An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.

Goddammit.

–

He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”

Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.

“Come again?”

A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.

“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”

Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.

It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.

“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”

“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”

Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.

In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.

“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.

Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue. 

It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.

He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along. 

By the third month, the dam breaks.

You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.

“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”

“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”

Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”

“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”

It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.

Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”

–

When he should, he doesn’t. 

Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.

The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.

He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.

You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.

“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”

It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.

It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.

“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.

“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.

He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”

You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.

“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”

“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”

“You did. I’ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”

If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.

Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.

“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”

Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”

It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree. 

“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”

“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”

All hell would break loose. 

“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”

“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”

You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”

He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.

Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”

You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.

You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.

Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.

He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.

It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.

He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.

–

He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.

He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.

 And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.

No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.

“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.

You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”

“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”

You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.

And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.

Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.

You needed something else to occupy your mind.

“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”

He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”

With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.

“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.

It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.

He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.

“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”

He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”

“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”

He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.

“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”

You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.

A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires. 

He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”

He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context. 

But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”

Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.

“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”

Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”

You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.

It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.

Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.

His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”

You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.

If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.

“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”

The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”

He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”

There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.

Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.

“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.

A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.

He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.

He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.

You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”

“What?”

He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.

“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”

Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.

“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.

He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?

“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”

“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”

“Can I think about it?” 

Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.

“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”

The sex, he means.

A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”

He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.

“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.

–

Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.

But, you were taking the risk.

Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.

“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.

“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”

“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”

Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.

The rest could be figured out later.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[knifeforkspooncup]

Please click for better resolution!

I made this silly little art, and then like a being possessed, wrote 1200 words of pure unadulterated hogwash to go with it (ficlet below the cut)

Duck Duck Goose

Rating: Teen and up

"Shouldn't be feeding them bread." Crowley said, trying and failing to ward off an irate goose with the pointed toe of his boot. "It’s brioche." Aziraphale chided, as if that explained anything. A nattering crowd of ducks was forming at his feet like eager disciples. Crowley didn't ask where he'd gotten the brioche. He'd stuck his chilly hands into Aziraphale's pockets enough times now to know the list of things the angel kept on his person at any given moment was - well, impressive was one word for it. In the way a magpie's hoard of oddities was impressive. A brioche was quite pedestrian, really. "Brioche then.” The goose had moved on to striking repeatedly for his ankles, more pit viper than waterfowl. “Shouldn’t. Feed them. Brioche,” he gritted between defensive maneuvers. He never had gotten the hang of sword fighting. If Aziraphale heard, he pretended not to, ripping off hunks of bread at least double the esophagus diameter of the average mallard duck. One at a time, he tossed them lazily into the fray. The ducks erupted into chattering, nipping each other’s feathers. A shark frenzy had more natural order to it.

The goose took no interest, bloodlust overriding any desire for fine French baked goods. If anything, it doubled its effort to latch onto Crowley’s shin. Had geese always had teeth?

Aziraphale beamed at the chaos, halogen bright. Humming with self satisfaction, he brushed his hands of crumbs, and settled back against the bench. Crowley diverted a sliver of bodily coordination to snake one arm behind him, weaseling into the warm gap left by the angel’s impeccable posture.

This was a thing they did now, apparently. Not watching ducks squabble over bread – that part was old hat. But Aziraphale tucking himself neatly against Crowley's side? For all the world to see. Like he was one of Crowley's wings simply stowing away. Frankly, that hat still had the tag on it. Still had that new hat smell.

This was rapidly becoming their new normal. Embroidery on the familiar weave of their time together. They still did all the things they always had. They still went to the Ritz, where the waiter still assumed Aziraphale was paying for the bill. Crowley still pulled out the angel’s seat like a proper gentledemon.

None of that had changed.

Just now they also held hands on the table between courses, and Aziraphale fed Crowley bites of dessert straight from his spoon. Sometimes they even did exciting things with their feet under the table.

Aziraphale called it canoodling. Crowley was pretty sure that was a fussy type of dog. The kind that wore bows on its head and left the groomer looking like an ornamental hedge.

Whatever it was, it was nice. More than nice.

Take today for example. The clouds were parting, birds singing – the whole production; the sun sparkled just so, really putting the ol’ razzle dazzle on it all.

There went Aziraphale, tipping his head back against Crowley’s shoulder, eyes closing. Lashes sun-gilt and fanning on his rosy cheeks. Straight out of a renaissance painting. A nice, expensive renaissance painting, on with real lapis lazuli pigment for the eyes. The angel really knew when to lay it on thick.

“Oh, that’s quite nice, isn’t it.” Aziraphale sighed, basking in the warmth.

See, nice? It was nice. Five hundred years of coming here, and this moment was the most nice it had ever been. Crowley remembered when this place was a marshy field full of roving geese and snuffling pigs. When the trees that made this nice bench were just scrawny little saplings, runty and wind bitten. Had the bench gotten smaller? It used to feel immense, and not in the luxury Cadillac sense of the word. Used to fit Heaven and Hell between them with room to spare. Back when nice was a four letter –

The goose sunk it’s – definitely toothed – beak into Crowley’s shin, just above the boot.

Satisfied with its grip, it started to flail, giving the impression Crowley was a chewtoy it meant to thrash to death. The small part of Crowley’s brain reserved for humility was starting to believe it would succeed.

"Dinner? How would you feel about a nice, tasty Christmas goose?” Grunted Crowley, shaking his leg and raising his free hand, demonic miracle at the ready. He had just the goose in mind. “With all the trimmings. Could even do some plum sauce on the side if you like,"

Aziraphale frowned, eyes still closed. “…it’s October.”

“That a no, then? Don’t want to get a head start on the festivities?”

Aziraphale looked up just as Crowley managed to dislodge the fowl beast and punt it away like a feathery football. It came right back, tongue stuck out like a rude child and wheezing angrily.

He tsked, mouth thinning. “You’re terrible. Leave the poor thing alone.”

Crowley sputtered. “Wha – ha – me?! I’m not the one biting a boot like a lunatic!” Would that work? Biting it? Maybe the goose would bugger off if Crowley bit it back. Should he bite it back? He should probably bite it, shouldn’t he. Oh, Satan, he was going to get feathers stuck in his teeth.

The infernal creature hissed, undoubtedly reading his mind. Crowley hissed back, tongue forking menacingly if only for the sake of his own ego.

Aziraphale was staring at him and smiling. Well, smirking. Fondly. The corners of his mouth pinching his cheeks, eyes crinkling under a raised eyebrow. He even had a dimple forming on his chin. Ridiculous. Something in the inner workings of Crowley’s chest did its best impression of a snare drum.

“Shall we, my dear?” Said the Very Ridiculous Angel, stirring from Crowley’s side. He stood and straightened his jumper until there were no more wrinkles. Seeing Crowley still engaged in boot-to-beak combat with the feathery fiend, he added tartly: “Before someone gets killed.”

Crowley grumbled something about demonic wrath and taking bets, but slunk to his feet. He flicked his glasses down and shot a final, venomous glare at the goose before sidling up to Aziraphale and offering his arm.

Aziraphale took it, wedging warm hands into the crook of Crowley’s elbow. He made it look habitual, easy as. Just the natural thing to do. Right as rain.

He was faster than Crowley, at this part. At the settling in. He’d taken to it all like geese to psychological warfare.

“You mentioned dinner?” Said Aziraphale brightly, ducks parting obediently at their feet.

“Your turn to pick.” Crowley’s skin was sizzling, water on a hot frying pan.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, face thoughtful. He took dinner plans very seriously.

“How about Peking duck? From that lovely place just around the corner, the one with the comfortable chairs.”

Crowley gave him a sharp look, nearly spraining an eyebrow in the process.

The angel was looking resolutely ahead, expression perfectly blank save for the way his mouth twitched at the corners.

I love you, blurted Crowley’s brain.

“Every restaurant has comfortable chairs,” blurted his mouth. It was a fact. Every restaurant did have comfortable chairs. Or else. So far Crowley hadn’t met a chair that cared to find out about the or else – chairs not being very curious by nature.

Crowley would say all the other things later, of course. All the sappy, corny, sweet-nothing things. When they were home. When he could wash the burn down with something whispered and sinfully filthy. Something that would make Aziraphale turn pinker than a summer peach.

Aziraphale was watching him, gaze unspeakably soft. “I know, my dear,” he said.

“I know.”

[bronzeyslcve]

remind me why i love you - lucy bronze

paring: lucy bronze x female reader

theme: angst

summary: you and lucy have been together for three years, and both play together for manchester city, however you discover that lucy is moving to lyon and she tries to push you away to not break your heart

warnings: lucy being a dick, brief mention of panic attacks

notes: set in 2017 just before lucy moved to lyon for the 2017/2018 season, you might want to grab some tissues! might make this a series if people are interested🤔 x

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

The new season was right around the corner and you couldn’t wait to put on the Manchester City shirt again, to represent your club alongside your friends and your girlfriend. Sure Lucy’s new contract hadn’t been finalised yet, but you knew it would be, you just knew she would stay a Citizen, why wouldn’t she?

“Narla, come out the way,” you exclaimed with a soft smile as you bent down to get the lasagne you had made out of the oven, however Lucy’s small West-Highland Terrier was in the way.

The dog refused to move, which made you laugh a little. To avoid the food from burning, you gently pick her up and set her in her bed before grabbing the dish out of the cooker with the help of the oven gloves.

Just as you got it out, you heard the front door open and Narla’s little feet padding towards the hall, to where Lucy had just walked in. You grabbed two plates from the cupboard and dished up the dinner, as your girlfriend walked into the kitchen. The normal cheeky grin that she would wear is replaced by a small, almost forced looking, smile.

“I missed you today,” you hummed, walking over to Lucy to give her a small hug.

“I missed you too. Let me just go get changed and I’ll be right back,” she stated simply before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“M’kay, don’t be too long Luce, otherwise your food will be freezing.”

Lucy just nodded before slipping out of the kitchen and seconds later, you heard her walking up the stairs. A soft sigh escaped your lips at her distance and you knew instantly that something was up with her. For now, you decided to ignore it, laying the dining table and deciding to pour you both a glass of red wine, a small luxury you’re allowed when not in season. After everything was all sorted, you settled down in your chair, waiting for Lucy to return.

Forty minutes of waiting had passed and you had just given up. You grabbed your plate and glass of wine and ate your now freezing plate of lasagne in front of the tv: a few tears running down her cheeks simultaneously. You suffered a little with your anxiety, you always had, and with Lucy’s distance you had yourself all worked up. But you manage to calm down a little, reminding yourself that Lucy probably just fell asleep after a long day.

After you’d eaten, you returned to the kitchen, setting your dishes in the dishwasher. Then, you wrapped your girlfriend’s plate, that was still on the dining table, up in tinfoil and then placed it into the fridge: so she can heat it up tomorrow. Once you’d sorted everything out, you dragged yourself upstairs, flicked on the light to the bathroom and then started up the shower.

Usually, when you would take a shower after Lucy, it would be incredibly slippery as she used about five thousand different hair products to get it to be all smooth, shiny and whatnot. However today it wasn’t, therefore meaning you didn’t have to risk breaking your neck and that you could enjoy your shower.

You stayed in there for ages. Just standing under the warm water, letting it cascade down your back, it being incredibly soothing. Following your shower, you flicked it off and then wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel.

Whilst wrapped in your towel, you stood in front of the mirror and did your usual nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and then the various, meticulously thought out steps of your skincare routine. After that was all done, you tied your hair up in a loose, messy bun, not wanting to feel the water dripping down your back any longer.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you practically jump out of your skin, Lucy is just stood there, waiting for you to come out of it. But she was looking at the ground, she seemed awkward: almost as if she didn’t want to be there.

“Er sorry I took so long getting changed,” she mumbled under her breath, being so un-characteristically quiet.

“No it’s okay, don’t apologise Luce. I wrapped your food up and put it in the fridge if you want to reheat it,” you explained, offering the right back a small smile, which she reciprocated - but only at the mention of food.

“Thanks babe, I’ll go do that now. I’m actually quite hungry,” she replied with a small laugh, her eyes still anywhere but on yours.

“Alright, I’ll be down in a sec.”

All you earn is a small nod before she’s walking back downstairs. You are beyond confused at her awkwardness, of her distance but yet again you just shrug it off to her being tired: even though your gut is trying to tell you it’s more than that.

You open up your bedroom door and see Narla snuggled up on the bed, half asleep, which makes you smile to yourself. It’s then when you notice the suitcase that’s packed and sitting in the corner of the room, Lucy’s passport sitting neatly on top.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as the realisation that Lucy was leaving pretty much slapped you in the face. They left a silver, slippery trail down your cheeks, little sniffles left your nose which made Narla cock her head to the side. When she noticed you’re crying, she nudges the back of your legs with a small whine.

You smiled and sat down on the bed, allowing her to sit in your lap. Narla got your full attention, your hands busying themselves with giving her strokes and scratches behind the ear.

“I’ll be alright Narls, just need a minute,” she whispered shakily into her fur, trying to calm yourself down, trying to settle your anxiety.

Ten long minutes passed and even worse Lucy didn’t even notice you’d been that long or she did but she just didn’t care. You’d managed to get into some pyjamas in the time and dry your hair properly. Now, you felt like you could face your girlfriend without being too emotional, without breaking down into tears: you just wanted some answers. You deserved them as her girlfriend. As you wondered down the stairs and into the lounge, with Narla hot on your heels, you could hear sounds coming from the tv.

“You alright love?” Lucy asked as you sat yourself down into one of the armchairs that nobody really uses, instead of of your normal spot beside her.

“Mhm, perfectly fine. Food okay?” you said, voice lacking any emotion as you’d already shut yourself off in preparation of this conversation: not wanting to cry in front of her.

“Oh it’s perfect babe, thank you,” she smiled but her eyebrows furrow as she hears the tone of your voice, devoid of any emotion whatsoever, but she just ignores it.

The smile on her face was fake. You knew it, she knew it and Narla knew it from where she’s now sat in her bed in the corner of the room. The way she was being so calm yet so fake just irked you and you lost it.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you’re leaving?” you asked, not looking at her, focusing on the shitty reality tv show playing out on the screen. You can’t look at her. You probably will burst into tears.

“You went into the bedroom,” she sighed, placing the plate down onto the coffee table as she finally looks at you.

“Of course I went into our bedroom, when the fuck were you going to tell me?”

“Look, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t of found out like this, it’s just, I signed for Lyon earlier and I thought I would try and leave as quickly as possible without you realising until it was too late, so it wouldn’t hurt you as much,”

“Wait, go back, you’ve signed for Lyon? The French team?”

“Yes. You should be happy for me,”

“Jesus Lucy, of course I’m happy for you. This is an incredible opportunity in your career. I just wish you told me that you were considering this move. You were just going to up and leave, which would’ve hurt so much more,” you explain, genuinely so happy for her, she has a better shot at winning the Champions League with Lyon: something she’s always wanted to do, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t want her to tell you first.

“Baby, I don’t want to hurt you. I never have done. But I’m putting my career first, you knew before we started that my career would always come over you. I still love you.”

What she said was true, but the way she said it, so harshly, creates a small pang in your heart. It’s almost as if Lucy doesn’t care whatsoever about what she’s saying to you, about how much she’s hurting you. It almost seems intentional like she’s trying to push you away.

“Really? Because I’ll be honest, it doesn’t fucking feel like it Luce, I get that your career is everything to you, trust me I do. But it still would’ve been nice for you to consolidate me on this decision,” you exclaimed, your voice raising slightly and your eyes now becoming wet.

“Don’t you dare be like that. God Y/n, you’re so fucking selfish. Thinking everything is about you all of the time. Fucking hell do you know how tiring it is for me? Having to be careful about all of your insecurities and anxieties all of them time? It’s draining and I hate it. I hate how I have to walk around eggshells around you all the time, to scared that if I say the wrong thing you’d have a mental breakdown! Jesus, I thought we’d be fine doing long distance, but I’m bloody rethinking that decision.”

Immediately, Lucy hated herself for what she said to you, every word that slips from her lips was false. She had been a complete and utter dick, she knew that, Narla, who was now glaring at her as if she understood everything single last word that she had just said, knew that. And of course, you knew that. But for Lucy it was the only way. She just had to push you away. Because if she did, if she hurt you, surely you’d be able to get over much quicker. Lucy couldn’t have been more wrong if she tried.

You had pushed yourself up from the armchair and practically ran into the kitchen, getting away from her for the moment. Tears were in your eyes, hands slightly shaking and your breathing was all over the place. You had to calm down. You had to breathe. A panic attack was something you really didn’t want to be having right now, not after she’d essentially labeled your mental health as a burden to her.

After about thirty seconds of quiet, Lucy comes storming in behind you, watching as you’re leaning on the counter, eyes closed, just trying to breathe. She feels horrible. Like the worst person to ever exist. But this is the only way.

“I’m not being selfish, I just asked why you didn’t tell me. I always would’ve let you go, I would’ve even encouraged you if you were worried about it. I would never ever stop you from having the wonderful career you deserve, Lucy, but doing it all behind my back. That’s what hurts,” you sighed once you felt as if you had your breathing back under control, your voice thick with shed tears.

“Look, I am sorry Y/n, but I felt like you wouldn’t have let me go, that you would hold me back. My god you’re so clingy and it genuinely feels like I can never put a step right with you anymore. That’s why I did it behind your back. It was easier for me and that way I wouldn’t have had to face this screaming match.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Lucia. I’m sorry I’ve made your life so fucking miserable. I had no idea that this was a screaming match, I’m not screaming? All I’ve done is ask you about the suitcase and you got all defensive and up in my face, making me feel like shit.”

You just lost it, freely sobbing in front of her now, which causes Lucy’s heart to break. She didn’t want you to cry. She hates seeing you cry. But she had to go along with this little plan she formulated in her mind, because it would help you to move on quicker from her, as she believed. Lucy also believed that you’d be okay because you would have the support from everyone at City; teammates, coaches, physio, etc. Of course, Lucy being Lucy doesn’t realise how far away from the truth she is. She’s not only hurt you, but she’s destroyed you. It’s going to take a very long time for you to get over her.

“God, remind me why I love you. Such a fucking drama queen. Can’t even handle the truth,” she muttered, and that was that, the holocaust was complete, you were done. You looked up at Lucy, your eyes latching onto hers and it made her want to break down crying too.

“I c..can’t do this anymore,” you managed to squeak, through tears, pushing past her to walk into the lounge to grab your phone as you left it in there earlier. You open up the phone app and scroll until you find the number for Jill Scott, dialling it.

“Hey Jilly-bean, could I stay at yours tonight. Please?” you pleaded into the phone, using your special nickname you have for Jill to butter her up and make her even more inclined to agree.

“Of course you can sweetheart. Want me to pick you up?” Jill replied, hearing the tears in your voice. She knew something was up and she was worried.

“That would be perfect, thank you,”

“Of course, I’ll be there in ten.”

“Y/n? Who was that? Where on earth are you going?” Lucy asked from behind you, growing rapidly concerned by the second. She had gotten what she had wanted. She had pushed you away. That still didn’t mean she wanted you to go, she wanted to spend one final night with you cuddled up in her arms. Deep down she knew that it was extremely selfish based on what she said, but she just didn’t expect for you to leave.

“I don’t want to look at you Lucia, let alone talk to you. I need to go somewhere to get my head straight.” you deadpanned, walking back up to the bedroom, locking the door behind you.

“Oh come on Y/n, open the door. It’s my final night for god sakes,” Lucy exclaimed as she banged on the door, her own tears threatening to fall from her eyes, it then hitting her how much this was going to hurt her. She didn’t really take into consideration her own feelings about losing you when deciding to push you away. She honestly didn’t feel like long distance would be good, that it would work. But now that she’s lost you, she realises that it would’ve been and that she’s lost the best thing she ever had. You were far more important to her than her career, a revelation she discovered far too late.

You just ignore her banging and what she says, you don’t care. You just need to get out quickly. A small suitcase is thrown open on your bed and you’re just tossing key essentials in it for a few nights away. Once all packed, you grab the case and walk out of the room, ignoring Lucy’s sad eyes as you walk downstairs for the fifty time today.

The suitcase wasn’t too heavy, so it was easy to lug down the stairs. You set it in the hall before grabbing your a pair of your trainers from the see rack and quickly put them on, Narla now standing in the hall, wondering what the hell is going on.

When the trainers are finally on, you just decide to wait for Jill outside. You lean down and give Narla a quick stroke, before unlocking the front door and shutting it behind you.

It takes Lucy all of ten seconds to rush outside after you, Narla too, and when she does, Jill pulls up and her heart drops. You immediately rush to throw your case into the boot when she was parked, whilst Jill got out of it, looking between you and Lucy.

When she saw the tears on your cheeks, the ones she’d suspected to be there since you called her, she pulled you into a tight hug, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Small tears finally started to slip from Lucy’s eyes at watching you cry and get comforted in the arms of your best friend. Poor Narla just stands by her feet, utterly confused by what’s going on.

“Jill, please don’t let her go. I fucked up. I need to make things right,” Lucy pleaded the older midfielder, a look of desperation on her face as she watches you get into the car.

“I’m sorry Luce. Look, I’ll make sure she’s okay, I’ll look after her,” Jill reassured with a small smile.

“Y/n please, please I’m sorry, I still love you. I always will. I was a dick, please.”

Her pleading breaks your heart even more, as does seeing the tears on her cheeks. Lucy never cries. Never ever.

“Just let her go Lucy.”

Jill then gets back into her car; she straps herself in, places one hand on your knee in a soothing manner and then begins the small drive back to her place.

Lucy’s heart completely shatters as she watches you go, heart torn into millions of different pieces. She’d lost you. And it was all her fault. She was properly sobbing now as she made her way back inside, Narla following after her. The front door was slammed and she then slid down it, crying uncontrollably. Narla whined and yipped as she watched, concerned. Lucy looked up at her little Westie, her face red and blotchy, a little bit of snot dripping from her nose, tears leaking from her eyes and staining her cheeks.

“I fucked up Narla, she’s gone.”

[theastrical]

Honeymoon with genshin men

honeymoon with genshin men! (their choices of destination, where do you guys stay at, and their action to showcase their love for you)

kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, alhaitham x reader

Kaeya’s Nobel Honeymoon

His plan is to make you feel like a royalty, as if you guys are indeed a heir to the crown or maybe the one holding the highest rank in the country. Well you two can only imagine right?

He bought a whole suite for you guys to stay in Airelles (Château De Versailles), France. The suite is called Suite Necker, It’s a beautiful suite, a magnificent one. The view is also wonderful, especially in spring.

He bought the suite for 4 nights, while he also makes sure both of you can have some fun times by participating in the palace tour or the dance in the royal ball.

Helps you whenever you need to fix your clothes, he also manage to fix any clothes malfunction, just incase it would embarrass you, he would fix it without you knowing; act of service is his passion.

Will take you out to some local choices restaurants, he pick the best one, not the one that are meant for tourist. He wants you to have the best food without thinking about the money you both spend over some tourist trap. (While eating, he would always prepare you and your food first, his? Later would be alright. He doesn’t eat his food when you haven’t start eating it)

Would photographed you across the city, the suites, the palace and everywhere you go. His excuse? “I just need to commemorate some beautiful things in here..”

Will buy some souvenirs you’re looking at, especially when you decide not to buy it. He would buy 3 kinds of it and pretend to also like it. Shows it to you (as a surprise) after you both get home from the honeymoon.

Diluc’s cottage dream

He rent a luxurious chalet, the name is chalet melilot. It’s Specifically placed near the mountainside of switzerland so you both can have morning stroll everyday in your honeymoon. Wants to be intact with mother nature since he thought it’ll be more private and sensational.

Thought it’ll be great if you guys also do some surveys around the country for housing if you both enjoyed the country environment.

He would hire a local chef to make you both three course meal for lunch and dinner, it’s all Switzerland’s traditional specialties. Specifically made using organic products and original recipe. He wants you to taste the best healthy and tasty meal, while savouring every each bite.

Every day when you guys walk around the mountain and feel even the slightest bit of cold, he would let you use his jacket, the scent is like firewood, so much like diluc.

At night, he would take you out to the city and even take shots of you using his polaroid. Every pictures he take is meant to be inside his small album of you and him (which he would present it, at the end of the joirney), he would pick the best pictures for his wallet. He seem to have everything in remembrance of you.

At the end of the honeymoon, he surprised you with a dog…a samoyed. It’s a cute thought, also an attentive one. “i know i wouldn’t always be at home and i’m sorry, this honeymoon make me realise that giving you my best is my priority and i will do so by giving you an accompany…this samoyed of our will be our forever accompany in this marriage okay…?”

Childe’s new home

Ajax didn’t like those romantic and sensational types diluc is into, he’s certainly into kaeya’s idea, but he wouldn’t want that either, it’s too cliché. He wants something traditional and refreshing to you. Something that he wants you to experience only with him, not exactly traditional, not exactly romantic, but certainly fresh. It’s not exactly the typical “honeymoon”, since his purpose is to make this trip unforgettable for both of you, and to learn everything about you both.

And that’s to travel around the world to search for a new home, he thought it’ll be better to stay in his hometown but for the sake of you, he wants to make a fresh new start. At your first stop, you guys explore Europe, especially around Sweden and Greece. The second stop is to explore around Asia, which is Mongolia and Vietnam. it’s such a fascinating trip for you both. The third stop is New Zealand, your once go-to-list. To live under these countries culture and to feel as one. You guys kept on trying to adapt to the new environment and it makes you both know each other’s habit easily.

You guys have stayed in numerous hotels and apartments. It’s not exactly romantic nor is it special, it’s both of your purpose to make this trip a whole get-away for newlyweds pressure and such. but makes it endearing is how you both eventually just fall asleep within each other embrace, just resting peacefully in ajax’s chest, while his arm delicately circled your waist. He’s a warm blanket and you’re his beloved plushies.

He would tie your shoes, help you with your bags or laundry, and over all, he’s the one helping you in any chores and in any given chance. He wants you to enjoy this trip without having the burden to do this and that. He just wants you to lay back and have your whole attention to him. Ajax only purpose is to see your smile at the end of the road.

When you both are just too exhausted to explore, you guys would order local take outs and eat it like a hungry fish would. He would laugh and you would teased him. It’s just a moment of laughter and satisfaction. No such a thing as workloads. Just you both having the time of your life together.

Zhongli’s relaxing party

This man’s honeymoon idea is exactly like how you imagine it. Boring but addictive at some way. you both would explore pretty gardens, lovely mountainsides, tea parties, and museum, at taiwan. It’s such a boring idea, but whatever make zhongli smile and whatever make you feel like at an old grandpa house is exactly what you called “the zhongli zone”. It’s comforting, being with zhongli, already feels like you’re being snuggled by a huge polar bear.

He’s such a sweetheart for always making the trip as…relaxing as possible, not wanting to pressure you with the family’s perspective of how newlyweds should act.

It’s not like you’re the one who’s pampering zhongli, he is also trying his best to be suitable enough as the one who court you first. He dips himself inside the hot spring while snuggling with you, he shops some random goods with you, and he also do tea testing by sharing the same cup as you. So relaxing…it makes you forget that you will continue to work again soon sigh.

“do you like this tea? I made this out of boredom and i saw you getting exhausted just by running through stores at the local shops…the goods are okay but i suggest you to keep your health the same, okay?”, this translates to “i’m worried about you, please don’t tire yourself. I want you to be as careful as you are with me when you take care of yourself.” Nonetheless, serves you the tea and even gives you a heartwarming kith on your cheeks.

he would buy you some keychains, handmade ones since he believes it’s more practical for it’s creativity and thoughts in it…also because he appreciates people’s handcraft. He still keeps your handmade bracelets even at your wedding day. he also picks you small pretty flowers when you both were strolling around the floral garden. Fresh and beautiful, just like you (he initially want to say this but he tries not to make it cheesy).

Silently serves you like a dutiful servant would. Makes you tea, cooks you meal, and makes sure you’re well rested. He always wants to pay back the things you did for him, he knows it’s not 100% the same, but he wants you to know that…this honeymoon is made especially for you. After covering you with the blanket and puts on some scented candles. He whispers at night when you were already asleep, “sorry i can’t be the best, but i’ll always be here when you need me. I love you.“

Alhaitham’s wonder of the world

You present him a ticket to travel Papua especially Raja Ampat for your honeymoon and he was so excited, he holds your hand with glimmering eyes…with a calm devoted look. He’s always been this way, hard to show his emotion, even when he’s screaming internally.

When you both arrived, he prepared everything for both of you so you don’t have to stressed out. He loves being the one in charge of itinerary, he loves to work on the schedules. You would see him humming with a straight face in his work office while he’s typing down the things you would do together as husband and wife.

he sets you both up to a diving session. He’s so excited he talks about it all night along. You can hear his yap even at the first day you got there. He loves nature, the sea, and everything inside that deep ocean. You were kind of scared of the ocean, you confessed that at first, and he looks at you with confusion before he say such a reassurance that makes you rethink if this is THE Alhaitham you’re thinking of. “if you’re scared, hold my hand and close your eyes..i promise, i’ll be there, beside you.”

That words he make instantly scarred your heart with love. You don’t even know how it makes you fall harder for him. But you did, you trusted him with your whole life, you hold his hands and he dive you into the sea-worlds. He giggles when he sees you all scared…he hugged you while you both dive so you won’t be scared or sink when you’re not in his watch. “don’t be coy now…trust me, i won’t let you out of my sight.”

When you got back home…you don’t even know how he made you so in love. Sigh…alhaitham, the man you are..

Taglist; @esthelily @indarius @n0tamused @sangoqueenkoko @voidlesslove @lyralibra @eroxotckv @rikasurl @dailypenpen @daydreaming-paradies

[doodlecouture]

Embracing Opulence: The World of Luxury Dog Products

In today's pet-centric world, our four-legged companions have become cherished members of the family. With this newfound status, pet owners are increasingly seeking ways to pamper and provide the best for their furry friends. Luxury dog products have emerged as a growing trend, offering premium, high-end items designed to indulge and enhance the lives of our beloved canine companions. From opulent accessories to gourmet treats, let's explore the world of luxury dog products and the reasons behind their popularity.

The Rise of Luxury Dog Products

In recent years, there has been a significant increase in demand for luxury dog products. Pet owners are increasingly willing to invest in high-quality, aesthetically pleasing, and innovative products that cater to their dogs' needs and comfort. The surge in disposable income, coupled with a shift in attitudes towards pets as valued family members, has led to this booming industry.

Indulgent Accessories

Luxury dog products often encompass a wide range of accessories that exude opulence and style. These items not only serve practical purposes but also make a fashion statement. Some popular luxury dog accessories include:

Designer Dog Collars and Leashes: Crafted from premium materials like genuine leather and adorned with exquisite detailing, these collars and leashes showcase elegance and durability.

Chic Dog Apparel: From handcrafted sweaters to tailored jackets, luxury dog apparel offers a mix of comfort and sophistication, making dogs stand out in any crowd.

Pampering Dog Beds: Memory foam beds with plush, hypoallergenic covers provide optimal support and comfort for a restful sleep.

Tech Gadgets for Posh Pooches

Advancements in technology have even extended to the pet industry, resulting in the creation of cutting-edge gadgets and devices catering to dogs' needs:

Smart Pet Feeders: These automated feeders dispense food at scheduled intervals, keeping dogs on a healthy eating routine even when their owners are away.

GPS Tracking Collars: High-tech collars with GPS tracking capabilities ensure that owners can keep tabs on their pets' whereabouts and receive real-time updates.

Interactive Dog Toys: Tech-infused toys, such as interactive puzzle games, provide mental stimulation, combat boredom, and promote cognitive development.

Gourmet Delights for Discerning Canines

Luxury dog products extend to the culinary world, with gourmet treats taking center stage:

Organic and Grain-Free Treats: Sourced from the finest ingredients, these treats cater to dogs with dietary sensitivities while offering a taste of pure indulgence.

Decadent Doggie Desserts: From pup-cakes to canine-friendly ice creams, luxury dog bakeries are crafting confections that mirror human desserts while maintaining nutritional value.

Ethical and Sustainable Luxury

As the world becomes more environmentally conscious, luxury dog product manufacturers are also adopting sustainable practices:

Eco-Friendly Materials: Companies are using eco-conscious materials like recycled fabrics and biodegradable plastics to create environmentally friendly products.

Ethical Sourcing: Luxury brands are placing a premium on ethical sourcing and production methods, ensuring that their products have a positive impact on the environment and society.

Conclusion

Luxury dog products represent more than just indulgence; they exemplify the deep bond between pet owners and their canine companions. The desire to provide the best for our furry friends drives the growth of this trend, with pet owners seeking opulent accessories, technological innovations, gourmet delights, and sustainable options. As the luxury dog product market continues to flourish, it stands as a testament to the unwavering love and care we have for our cherished pets.

[insight-pet-australia]

5 Hygiene Products for All Pets

Pets are important members of any household, so it is important to take care of their hygiene! While the exact care will depend on your pet type, there are a few things that all pet owners should do to keep their furry friends clean and healthy.

1. Groom your pet regularly.

This is especially important for long-haired pets, who can get matted hair and skin irritation if they are not groomed regularly. Be sure to use the right tools and products for your specific pet, and ask your veterinarian for advice on the best way to groom them.

2. Bathe your pet regularly.

Again, this is especially important for long-haired pets, who can get stinky if they are not bathed regularly. Use a pH-balanced pet shampoo to avoid drying out your pet's skin, and rinse them thoroughly to remove all of the shampoo.

3. Brush your pet's teeth regularly.

This is important for dogs and cats, as it helps prevent tartar build-up and gum disease. Use a pet-specific toothbrush and toothpaste, andare also tooth wipes available specifically for pets.

4. Keep your pet's environment clean.

This includes cleaning their bedding and cleaning their food and water dishes regularly. It's also important to sweep and vacuum regularly to remove pet hair and dander.

All pet owners should have some general hygiene products in their home. Here are five hygienic products for all pets:

1. Shampoo: All pets should be bathed regularly, so a good quality pet shampoo is essential. Look for a shampoo specifically formulated for your pet's fur type and skin condition.

2. Grooming tools: No matter the breed, all pets need to be groomed regularly. Invest in proper grooming tools, such as brushes, combs, scissors, and clippers.

3. Flea and tick prevention: Fleas and ticks can cause great discomfort in pets, not to mention spread diseases. Be sure to use flea and tick prevention products to protect your pet from these parasites.

4. Toothbrush and toothpaste: Just like humans, pets need regular dental care. Invest in a toothbrush and toothpaste specially formulated for pets, and brush their teeth regularly.

5. Ear cleaner: Pets' ears must be cleaned regularly to prevent wax buildup and other bacterial infections. Some ear cleaners are administered with a cotton ball or Q-tip, while others come in a liquid format.

These are just five of the most critical pet grooming products that all pet owners should have. With proper care, your pet will stay happy and healthy.

Also make them happy by getting them the black leather dog lead, designer dog collars, dog training products or simply keep them happy with luxury dog grooming products.

[piplupcola]

I hope whatever your little dream or desire is, it will come true to you.

[shaggy-dawg]

Upgrade your pet’s lifestyle with luxury pet accessories from My Shaggy Dawg. Discover premium, stylish, and comfortable products, from elegant leashes and collars to cozy beds and fashionable clothing. Perfect for pet owners who want the best for their furry companions! This article was originally published here. Visit the page for more details.

[milkcanned]

night in with the one piece girls

ft. nami, nico robin, boa hancock, nefertari vivi, tashigi

a.n: lol this is my debut. enjoy.

cat burglar nami

• first of all, you had to beg nami for a night in rather than a night out in the first place

• she loves to go out shopping with you

• but, on this night in, best believe you are being pampered.

• she makes the two of you various tangerine snacks for the night. tarts, dipping sauce, a cocktail, you name it.

• laying your head on her lap as she doodles away at a new map she's making

• or, resting your head on her shoulder to watch the delicate ink lines indicating the landscape of the island she's mapping.

• settling on the floor for a massage, which she is an absolute top tier masseuse.

• feeling her hands glide across your back, working into your tense muscles and easing away that low pain.

• her complaining that you're "doing it wrong" when it's your turn to massage her, when really she's just trying to hide that she's ticklish.

• setting up a bath together with her homemade tangerine body wash and soaps, it smells just like her

• her accidentally getting soap in your eyes and giggling while washing it out

• "whoops, sorry." she sticks out her tongue and gives you a wink

• cuddling with her in bed, tangled in each other's arms. her breath against your neck and that warm smell of tangerine

nico robin

• a cozy night in with robin is not a rarity in your relationship

• in fact, it's quite often the two of you relax in the comfort of home

• firstly, book marathon.

• just reading beside each other, enjoying one another's presence. maybe her head's in your lap, maybe you're squished close in an arm chair together

• a debrief on the books you've both read is a must.

• deep, meaningful talks about life, the universe, stupid things. the two of you could go on to each other about the terrors of life and not even lose sleep over it. and don't even think about doing this while high.

• "if a dog and a cat's upper body were sewn to together, how do you think it would expel waste?" ... "good question, robin. well,"

• sometimes you both flip through those "who would win" nature magazines and place your bets

• "the hippopotamus would definitely beat the rhino! they're quite vicious, you know."

• scaring your fellow crewmates by hiding under the hammock (you) and grabbing usopp's arms

• robin, of course, made hands to grab the remaining legs

• giggling and running back to robin as usopp screams in horror

• settling into bed as she makes arms to rub comforting circles into your back, arms, and legs.

• drifting off to sleep as the smell of book pages and lavender lull you

boa hancock

• a night in with hancock is actually much more common than expected.

• rarely does she ever leave the palace with you to favor a night on amazon lily's markets

• her pampering may be on par with nami's. she's an empress after all, and you're her consort.

• the two of you first take a luxurious bath with all kinds of bath salts, creams, scrubs, and shampoos.

• her products are strictly lily scented, it smells so much like her

• her long fingers gently working into your hair to fully cleanse and nourish it, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

• getting out of the bath to be dressed in a beautiful draping bathrobe, and being escorted to her room.

• trays of all of your favorite foods laid across the table in front of a loveseat

• the both of you taking turns feeding each other fruits, giggling like schoolgirls when juice runs down the other's lip

• "my! i think you have something on your face!" she chuckles and blushes, reaching out a hand to swipe at your lip

• having a couple's massage in the palace, hands entwined as you both relax parallel to each other

• climbing onto her lap as she lounges on her snake, salome. she's so warm and smells so sickly sweet of lilies and honey.

• drifting off to sleep in each other's arms, with salome loosely coiled around the two of you like a weighted blanket

nefertari vivi

• as much as vivi loves having a night out in alabasta's markets, a palace date suffices

• you better believe you're getting the princess treatment by the princess herself!!

• doing each other's hair in her room with karoo softly snoring on the bed

• feeling her silky smooth blue locks between your fingers as you style her hair

• being caught giggling and gossiping by igaram when he enters the room to drop off a tray of assorted fruits and snacks

• going out to the palace garden to watch the pigeons and doves as vivi tells you about her journeys with the strawhats

• a beautiful dove landing on your lap as she finished up her story, cooing as you scratch behind it's head

• "hey, this one looks like you."

• trying on her beautiful gowns, and her spinning you in the mirror to look

• heading out to the palace's pool to swim with the spot-billed duck troops

• splashing vivi, which results in you getting splashed tenfold

• drying off in robes as the two of you get ready for bed

• drifting off to sleep with her arms around you, karoo snoring softly at the foot of the bed

tashigi

• a night in is usually what the two of you get up to, considering there isn't much to do on marine bases

• smoker has no problem letting her take the night off

• heading to the marine mess hall to grab some coffees and pastries

• her letting you grab a sip of her hot coffee, and getting concerned when you flinch back

• "s'way too hot, tashigi!" ... "oh, oops!"

• letting her rant to you about swords and katanas, her flipping through a sword magazine and showing the ones she has circled in red marker

• sparring each other with wooden sticks, which she beats you at, landing you on your back

• tashigi then promptly falling clumsily right on top of you, glasses slipping off of her nose

• you pushing her glasses back up and giggling, which earns you a pouty and completely red in the face tashigi

• helping her clean her collection of blades, some of which were confiscated from pirates deemed unworthy of holding a sword

• "wow so this one belonged to someone from baroque works?" .. "yup!" she beams, blushing

• settling into bed with her as she takes off her glasses to sleep

•cradling her head against your chest as you both drift off to slumber

[queenie-avenue]

Terms and Conditions Apply.

💌 ⤻ THE CEO, ADRIAN HOUDE

—> you're the sweet little intern, and he's the big bad wolf who wants to eat you up.

⤻ reader is written as a female, yandere male, age gap, power dynamic, toxic obsession, slightly suggestive, slight financial abuse, set in london, this is a drabble but full fics of him will be made in the future

🦋 ⤻ archives.

TOP TEN BACHELORS NEAR YOU!

1. Adrian Houde.

Tall, Handsome, Rich, Successful, Ambitious. Ask anyone with more than half a braincell and they will immediately tell you that all these traits are what Adrian Houde has! Born from the rich Houde Family known for their luxury fashion products, he had risen the ranks as CEO of his family's company a few years back.

And boy oh boy, has he made himself known. From various (fake) scandals of him dating various women, to his success in the market in revolutionising his family's industry in fast fashion but still remaining loyal to his grandmother's routes as a custom tailor who first gained traction in France.

Perhaps Mister Houde's only flaw is that he has been on this bachelor list for far too long! He's already in his mid-30s, can you believe this guy has been single for so long?

So, to the lady who catches his eye, good luck surviving all the jealous women who are going to come after you, sweetheart!

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Adrian Houde is a proud man. I mean, who wouldn't be, right? He was successful, and rich, and practically everyone — regardless of gender or age — wanted to be with him or be like him. He was the pinnacle of a great man, just like his father had said he would be.

So why was it that when you entered the office, looking like a lost little puppy dog, that you captured his interest immediately. Perhaps it was the coffee stains on your skirt and the way your eyes sparkled with desire for greatness. He had seen that spark many times before. In his own eyes, actually. From the moment he saw himself in the mirror as a teen who became aware of the legacy on his shoulders, he knew he was bound for greatness. And you, a simple woman, of all people, carried that same determination and ambition within those cute eyes of yours.

You couldn't blame him for being intrigued by you.

Especially when you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes he couldn't help but laugh.

"I am so sorry, sir- I had no idea anyone was in the meeting room this early." You apologised frantically, holding a bunch of papers and a small, slightly shabby notebook.

"No, no." Adrian voice was smooth and sweet, a mixture of his French accent and his London boy accent he had gotten from the years of being raised in London. "Don't apologise. I was a bit too early to the meeting room, it seems." He said, taking his hands out of the pockets of his suits, raising out his hand towards you.

"Adrian Houde." He introduced out of courtesy.

Hurriedly, you rushed to take his hand, firmly shaking it like you had been taught.

You touch sent shivers down his spine. Was it because your hands were cold or was it something else about you?

Either way, he liked it.

"[y/n] [l/n], sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled at him, that glow from your eyes never fading.

"[y/n] [l/n]," he repeated, allowing the syllables to roll down his tongue like something falling down the stairs, bouncing. "A pretty name, for a pretty girl." He chuckled cooly as he pulled his hand away.

"I've never seen you before, Miss [y/n]. Are you new?" He inquired.

"Ah, I'm an intern. I just- uh, got posted here recently." You smiled. "I'm a fashion design major."

He couldn't help but be a bit disappointed by that. You were a fashion design major, which meant that you and him would probably not see each other often unless he kept paying visits to the fashion department.

"Wonderful. It's nice to see such wonderful young minds in my company." The older man said as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit with a relaxed grin. "I just know you'll do great in this company."

That blush on your cheeks after he complimented you drove him crazy.

That was how your first meeting concluded.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You were so intriguing that Adrian just couldn't keep his mind off you. The moment he returned to his office, he called up his secretary and immediately requested for your file.

When he got it, he couldn't help but obsess over it. Your portfolio was so perfect. From all your university extracurriculars to all your little quirks that the intreviewers had noted down, they were all there for him to overanalyse and understand. Your designs, he had to say, surpassed his grandmother's when she first started out the business.

His fingers traced past all the small details of the sketches of the dresses and suits you made and he wondered what you would look like as a model. Sure, you were the artist, but what if you were a muse?

He couldn't help but imagine you draped in fabrics, nothing else underneath.

He shook his head out of it.

Where was all this coming from? He was a gentleman, his grandmother had taught him to be one.

Brushing those thoughts aside, he went back to admiring your work with a smile.

Indeed, you were an asset he couldn't lose.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Afterwards, he invested a lot of time into you. He would always drop by to the studio to talk to the head fashion designers then he would come find you, especially during your break where no one else would see you.

He disliked seeing you with others, terrified that someone else might steal his skilled intern away. No, he couldn't let any business rivals take you away from him.

Or at least, that was his justification.

Adrian would always watch you sketch your dresses behind you till you noticed and promptly let out a yelp. He enjoyed that fear in your eyes but what he enjoyed even more was the constant ambition sparkling in your pupils.

Right, you were his intern and his future designer. It was normal for him to be so invested in your growth.

After all, he was a gentleman. His grandmother had emphasised him to be in all his teachings, so this wasn't wrong. He wasn't preying on the cute intern because he wanted her. No, no, he was being a good boss by observing your actions and your growth.

Another defense as to why he began to nick your drawing pens away.

He would always replace them by gifting you more expensive pen though, a gift for you "allowing" him to have a close-up of the materials you use.

Plus, his future designer deserved the best.

You were his, after all.

"You lost another pen? No worries, I can gift you this one. Hm? Don't worry about it. Think of this as... an investment on your career."