#sunset tonight los angeles

[orgoatpassantsable]

[prismravine]

august 28, 2023

sunset tonight

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.4 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, guns, serious injury, mentions of potential character death

…

Your brows are knitted, fists curled into the sheets. Even your rest is disturbed. This is the longest that you have managed to sleep consecutively in two days. Four hours. Jake’s blinks started feeling heavy an hour ago, and have been becoming more strenuous since then. He exhales slowly and stretches out his legs in front of him, taking the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb.

It’s colder tonight, now a week into September. You’re supposed to be back in Los Angeles, starting the first week of your grad programme. No one expects you to be there and there will be allowances made for you to catch up, but Jake wishes you were anywhere but here.

Staying in the White House seems like it’s making you worse. You’ve barely left your room and when you do, it’s just to venture down to the kitchen or the library. As much as you can, you’ve avoided going anywhere that requires Manny or Jake to be with you. It almost crosses Jake’s mind again; if it were up to him…

It wasn’t. It still isn’t. If it was, you wouldn’t be hurting like this. You wouldn’t be waking up hyperventilating every time that you do manage to get a small amount of sleep. Your dreams wouldn’t be chilling repeats of the blood seeping into that ancient flooring, the shilouette of that man in the darkness of your room or the guilt on Jake’s face in the reflection of that rear view mirror.

This afternoon. The clip you had seen, an interview on a morning talk show amongst a few women much older and far less media trained than yourself. Asking, rhetorically, if this could have been avoided, if fingers could now be pointed. Jake had swiftly turned the television off. You had swiftly pushed yourself up from the couch and marched back to your room.

Your sleep is still restless now. Tossing onto your left side and pushing the covers down a little, face scrunched in concern. Jake knew that it would be. You sat with your mother for a while this morning. The colour faded from her skin and the jagged wound, covered with a cushioned bandage that peaked out from the top of her shirt. You saw it without the coverings. Red, puffy, torn flesh that has been put back together by some of the best surgeons in the US and still looks exactly like what it is.

Breeze blowing the curtains, a darkened navy hue tints the skies this morning. Jake could tell you exactly what every sunset and sunrise has looked like since Saturday, as well as all about the blackness of the night itself. He hasn’t been sleeping much either. He hasn’t left your side much, either. Your record for consecutive hours of silence is doing better than your sleeping. You’ve barely spoken to him since you left the hospital.

Gasping like you’ve just come up for air between the break of waves, you shoot up. He glances back at you from where he had been staring out of the window. Hair tousled and messy, green eyes dark and tired, stubble covering his jaw.

Uneasily, you push the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Jake catches sight of your legs trembling as you put weight on them. It’s faint, and that stubborn heart of yours forces them straight again swiftly. You walk silently towards the bathroom.

“You alright?” Jake asks softly, right as you pass by him. The bathroom door closes behind you in response, the lock twisting. He closes his eyes, resting his hand against his chin.

Heartbeat thudding in your ears and sweat beading on the back of your neck, you claw your hair back from your skin and brace yourself beside the toilet. Nausea floods your entire being, head spinning. It was stupid of him to ask, if you look anywhere near as awful as you feel.

As per usual, nothing comes. It’s just you, staring at that stupid fucking polished porcelain until finally you give up and move across to the sink. Keeping your gaze pointed down at all costs, you run the water for a moment until it’s sufficiently freezing over your fingertips. It slows that uncomfortable slam of your heartbeat, just slightly. You lean down a little bit and guide a handful of water over your face cautiously.

The thought of Jake being on the other side of that door brings that surge of nausea forwards again. You turn and sit down against the counter, trying to buy yourself a little bit more time. The water streams on at your side, leaning your head back against the mirror. The light’s too bright and you’ve still got a headache, but it’s better in here than out there.

People keep telling you that you’re lucky to have walked away without a scratch on you. Closing your eyes, the brightness of the light still makes them ache. Luck has nothing to do with you making it out. It was just Jake. It’s not just you that was lucky either, apparently. You keep hearing it. The president was lucky. The one that really hurts is hearing that your mother was lucky.

Her colour faded and two of her ribs almost shattered by the bullet that had buried itself between them, six surgeries and a difficult recovery ahead of her. Nothing seems lucky about that.

You’re silent as you walk past Jake, slipping back into bed and pulling the covers up over your legs. He’s staring at you, blank-faced, still sitting in that arm chair.

“You should go back to your room, people will ask questions if you’re here all night.” You mumble dully, settling down and turning onto your side away from him. Jake swallows at the lump in his throat, scratching at the stubble on his jaw and then shaking his head. You close your eyes, impatient, “Please go.”

Silence follows, no sounds of him making any effort to move. You can still feel his eyes on you. Finally, a strained exhale. Briefly, you think that he’s going to give in and leave. You should know better. Jake bites the inside of his cheek and glances downwards. He shifts slightly in the seat, like he’s getting comfortable, letting you know that he’s going to stay.

His eyes are still on you when you sit up. Yours are ablaze, fist curled into the sheets. It’s the most emotion he has seen from you in days. Tears brimming, teeth gritted. He just watches you, calm. The lack of reaction is just fuel to the angry, blisteringly hot fire growing in the pit of your stomach.

Those pretty features darken across the room at him, tongue venomous as you spit, “I don’t want you anywhere near me, get out.”

Again, nothing. He just watches you, heart steady, albeit aching. Jake shakes his head slowly, “I’m not going to leave you on your own.”

You blink the tears back, anger bubbling in your core, “What? — Like you being here means anything? — I don’t fucking trust you, Jake!”

Your words are scalding, and he’s almost certain that they’ve marked him physically, but he doesn’t react. He just keeps on staring at you, folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you hearing me, you asshole? — I can’t fucking stand you.”

A muscle in Jake’s jaw ticks, but he remains steadfast. He stretches his legs out in front of him, sighing softly. “Say what you want, I’m not leaving.”

Finally, gasoline touches that bubbling fire and you snap. There’s a brief pause between the two of you, and Jake has been wounded by women before, but he knows what a kill shot looks like and you’re headed right for it.

“You never would have betrayed Dani like this.” You tone is soft and cold; political. Devastatingly poised, and for this first time, Jake sees your father in you. He has been holding onto that degree of separation, that kindness in your heart and the good that fuels your being. You’re just a product of this game that your parents are playing.

“No, I wouldn’t have.” Jake answers you eventually, his tone is quiet and slow, like this concept might be challenging for you to grasp. There’s a sadness to the cadence of his voice, but no anger. He’s always been so angry at the mention of her name. Now, he just swallows and shakes his head. “But now she’s dead.”

Silence again. You watching him, him studying your face and the wounds he has caused you. He’d take it all away if he could, but that isn’t enough. Finally, your body betrays you as fat, furious tears spill out onto your cheeks. Your chest heaves, a silent sob as you fall forwards and cover your face with your hands.

She steps forwards into the front of your mind, the beaming little girl who sat at the front of her first grade classroom and told everyone with astounding certainty that her dad was going to be President someday. She watches through your eyes, the fat tears and the gasping sobs as you press your face into the bed, confused.

Princess dresses and big, long hallways, meeting the kings and queens of every country in the world, being famous. Every sparkling, shiny idea in her little head, pouring out in damp patches onto your floral sheets. It was never supposed to be like this. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of after being tucked into bed at night. This isn’t what she was promised when she had been perched on her father’s knee, asking him why he had to work so much.

The bed dips as settles against your side and wraps his arms tight around you, enclosing you against him like you’re being tucked in. His lips press softly to your head, arms squeezing tighter around you. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispers, voice cracking just slightly.

He swallows and composes himself, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. He whispers it again and again, squeezing you tighter as you soak his black t-shirt with tears, “I’m so sorry.”

“You should have told me.” It’s barely coherent with your face pressed into him, gasping between your tears and your voice strained and trembling. Jake nods against you. He guides you back by your shoulders and lifts you chin. Tenderly, he brushes away your tears with his thumbs and tilts his head to meet your gaze. Your lip trembles, feeling sick with heartache. “I told you… about how everyone lied to me— and— you still…”

You cover your face with your hands again. Childish, shrinking in on your safe. Memories of your mother’s hand squeezing around your forearm at important dinners and hissing, “Don’t you dare cry in front of these people.”

You hide yourself away from him, even as he tries to guide your hands away. There’s no way, with these fresh and bleeding wounds, that you’ll ever be able to look him in the eye and tell him how much you hate him for letting himself become one of them. Holding you at night and listening to your deepest, darkest fears, seemingly indifferent to them.

“I know. I know that now,” Jake agrees, smoothing his hand along your back. He kisses your shoulder gently, then your neck. It’s chaste, soothing, almost platonic. He murmurs your name against your skin, pleading whispers for you to just please look at him. Curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt, you press your face into his neck and whimper, the only answer that your body can give him. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I hate you.” Voice broken, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, your tears spill out onto his skin. Jake swallows at the lump in his throat, pulling you tighter against him. “I hate what you did.”

“I’m never going to let anything happen to you again,” Jake mumbles into your hair, exhaling slowly. He squeezes you in his arms, pulling the covers over your trembling legs. “I swear.”

That fire in your middle is all white smoke and ashes by this point, but the tears are warm enough for you to still feel its presence. Jake’s words don’t make you feel any better, they don’t soothe the ache in your chest, but they do make you go quiet. Quiet, warm, and in a dark enough room that sleep comes fairly naturally. Tucked against his chest, tear-stained cheeks and jagged breaths that shallow out into gentle exhales.

The steady thrum of your heartbeat against his chest finally makes Jake stop fighting, his tense muscles aching even more as he lets go for the first time in about a week, letting himself relax around you.

It lasts a while, your head on his chest and him on his back, maybe three hours. Jake doesn’t move when you startle awake, the days of just napping rather than sleeping finally catching up to him. Heartbeat thudding and stomach churning, you try to sit, knocked back by his arms tight around you. Your cheek brushes against the cotton of his t-shirt as you settle back against him.

Judging solely by the purple hue of the morning sky, it’s a little after five. You brush an open palm against his abdomen and allow yourself, just briefly, to be held. You’ve been trying to make sense of it. How you could have let yourself fall for it, and open up to him as much as you had. How you could have possibly trusted him.

But now, you’re back in it. These quiet mornings in his arms, feeling how tight he holds you, how well he sleeps with you in his bed. Even if the rest of it was, there’s quite simply no way that this could not be genuine. So, it leaves you with the same question that you’ve been asking all week. Why?

Lifting your head just slightly, you study his sleeping face. Still tired now, face perpetually furrowed into a soft frown, always serious. He shifts a little and presses his cheek to the top of your head, obstructing your view. Jake usually wakes up earlier than you do. You haven’t had too many opportunities to just sit and observe him like this, to think to yourself.

Your mind races. Lilac clouds pass over the brightening morning sky, breeze coming in through that open window, Jake’s familiar smell warming your senses. It just doesn’t add up.

Jake’s a pretty light sleeper. It takes some maneuvering, lacing your fingers through his and moving slowly like you would if you were still sleeping. Eventually, you’re on your feet and walking down the hall in your pyjamas while he’s still safely in your bed. Old but abnormally clean carpet under your bare feet, never empty halls, none of it matters and your course remains unwavering.

“Morning, sweetheart, your dad’s just in a—“

You step around his assistant’s desk and swiftly side step the dumb looking security guard that’s perched on that desk and flirting with her.

“Oh, no, you can’t—“ She continues to try behind you as your fingers curl around the door handle. Every idiot in a suit and earpiece in that room all look at each other in unison, unsure on if it’s still protocol to stop you after what you’ve been through. They’re too slow on deciding.

You swing open the door and close it again behind you. Matthew turns, brows furrowed and ready to yell, phone pressed to his ear. He calms, fingers curling tighter around the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

He sets the phone down and smiles at you. There’s a look in your eye that he hasn’t ever seen before. Your relationship with him is usually so professional, you’re always so poised — he hasn’t seen you in your pyjamas since you were a kid. For you to have stormed down here like this, he knows that he’s in trouble, and he knows it’s something to do with your cocky little boyfriend.

“What’s up, princess?” He smiles at you.

Wolffish, face cold, you stalk towards him. It’s strange. The little girl he raised, walking towards him in her pyjamas, and yet — Matthew’s gut tells him that there’s something to be afraid of in this woman before him.

“Did you know?”

The thing about this little game, is that he might be surprised by the make, but he’s good enough at it to remain one step ahead. He has tricked people far more cunning than his little girl. “About you and the bodyguard, you mean?”

It catches you off guard, just briefly, he sees it flash across your face. He sits back calmly in that expensive chair behind that famous desk, raising his eyebrows with an inch of expectation. Truthfully, he’d hoped that you took after him a little more than that. But, maybe you’re more like your mother: soft, naive.

“About the attack.”

“Did your boyfriend give you that impression?” His lips quirk just softly, eyebrows still raised. There it is again, that flash of realization and Matthew knows that you know what he did. Maybe you are a little bit like him after all. Your stomach flips, stepping closer to the desk, eyes blown wide — almost fearful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whisper to him, instinctually moving to protect Jake.

Matthew’s smile grows, he scoffs at you and shakes his head. You watch him pull open the top drawer of his desk and retrieve a simple brown envelope from the carefully carved mahogany. He pulls the photos from the inside, then sets it down gently on the top of the desk and turns it towards you.

You avoid the photos, your eyes on him.

“I had nothing to do with what happened that night,” Matthew answers you calmly, “But I think you and I should have a little talk about the kinds of things that this guy has been telling you, princess.”

…

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[harrytheehottie]

LOOKING BACK (a snapshot of moments in harry’s pov)

Harry woke up from a nightmare. Or maybe it wasn’t a nightmare, just a really vivid dream. Whatever it was. He was now up in the middle of the night. The private plane was still above the Atlantic Ocean. Harry tapped on the screen on the seat in front of him. The map of the plane's journey, only three and a half hours left until he’s back home. He couldn’t wait.

The last few months, honestly years of his life have felt out of his control. He spent a year working on an album that he was only able to promote for three months before the entire world shut down and he was unable to leave Los Angeles for months although it felt like years after day 14 of living in the same house as his friends. He loved them but he was going crazy. So, he did what he always does in moments of crazy, he called up his friends Tom and Tyler, booked the studio in Malibu for a month and got all his emotions out for his next album.

And then. His life went a little like this.

Album. Movie. Relationship. Grammy. Another Movie. Tour. Album. More Tours. More Tours. Another Tour. Breakup. More Tours. Final Round? Yes. Done.

And now, he was three and a half hours from the one place he wanted to be most.

With you.

Harry has always thought the ‘you’ll find love where you least expect it’ was a cliche. He was always set up somehow or just happened to be in an environment where a relationship may naturally occur for most. He was single for the first time in a long time and didn’t want anything serious. His focus was finishing up the tour - the only date in his mind was July 22, 2023. The last time he would be on stage for at least a full year.

And then, one late night when he was in bed somewhere in Asia he found himself tapping through Instagram stories. He was on a strict schedule and wasn’t one to party during tour - unless it was a very special occasion. And he was letting himself have a few more of those doing his days off. But tonight, he was in bed with some music documentary in the background as he tapped through Instagram.

A picture of his old classmates' new child. A selfie. A picture of the sunset on the beach. A repost about the ‘Sunday Scaries’. And then a video of one of his friends from back home in London at a party of some sort. Something was telling him to linger on these next few slides. He recognized some faces. London was a fairly small city and when you’ve lived there for a little over a decade - it gets smaller and smaller. He hasn’t seen you around. He replayed the same 15 second video over and over again. He was mesmerized by the way your bright smile and shy laugh cut through the video even though you weren’t the center of attention. Your presence is what got him to go back to the story over and over again.

He thought about messaging the mutual friend. His thumb hovering over the ‘send a message’ button at the bottom of the screen. Would it be too full on? Too desperate? What would you think? It’s the tricky part about being himself. He doesn’t want to come off too full on and confident. Maybe he thinks he should try to sleep on it. But something keeps making him go back to that story, over and over and over again. So, he does the second best thing. He sends a text to the friend who posted the story - asking them to hangout when he’s back home and introduce you to him.

&&

When Harry first met you, he swore it felt straight out of a movie. He was a romantic. He always has been that way. His therapist thinks it comes from growing up solely around women and watching his parents separate. You long for the things you didn’t have or something like that. But he knows that this, whatever he is feeling is different. His friend did him a favor and instead of just inviting solely you to hangout, he had a game night at his house. Harry was nervous the entire day, unable to figure out what to wear, how to style his hair, if he should arrive on time or a little late. He was working himself up so much he almost had to call his older sister, Gemma to help him get ready but decided not to. He didn’t want to involve anyone just yet. So, he put on an outfit he’s worn dozens of times before. A blue button down and some black trousers, ran his hands through his hair a few times and headed out the door.

The minute he made it to his friend's apartment. He swore he heard your voice. The laugh that was replaying from that same fifteen second clip. He felt his desire to be near you grow stronger throughout the night. It was almost embarrassing. The way he was so desperate for your attention. Every smile and laugh you shared felt like another success under his belt. He really liked you and needed you to know that. So, when you finally sat next to him during a game of charades, Harry decided to do something. You were both engaged in the game happening right in front of you. Everyone was. Which gave Harry an opportune time to lay back on the couch and move his right hand from his own leg to yours. He had his hand on your thigh right above the knee. He could almost feel his body tensing up and getting red as seconds went by without a reaction from you.

He felt like he was holding his breath in. Until, you also began to slowly lean back on the couch. Smiling at Harry the same way he knew he was looking at you. A shy laugh between the two of you and you stayed like that through the majority of the night. The game night was useless because he got what he initially came for.

And damn did he feel very lucky.

&&

Your first date started off not well. Harry planned to take you to one of his favorite restaurants which ended up being closed for maintenance. He was scrambling for another location and settled on a picnic in the park. You talked for hours about everything. Where you’ve from, what brought you to London, your favorite things to do. And Harry was intently listening to every detail asking questions he never did before. He really wanted this to work out. The feeling of that pull towards you growing the more you spoke.

By date number four, he was already thinking of asking you to be his girlfriend. You were walking back to the car after a nice meal at your favorite hole in the way Chinese restaurant. To some it would be too soon, honestly, to himself a few months ago it would feel too soon. But right now, on this walk back to the car, after sharing endless amounts of dumplings and feeling like your conversation was effortless, he knew he wanted to bottle this feeling up and experience it every single day for as long as you’d allow him.

So, he did something that the two of you laugh about now.

You were a couple feet from the car when Harry stopped dead in his tracks. And as soon as you realized he wasn’t still walking beside you and you turned around to see what he was up to. He was about to kneel down on one knee.

“What are you doing?” You asked immediately, laughing at the situation he put you in. He didn't know it at the time but there was a tiny part of you that thought this was something he always did.

“I know this is crazy.” Harry began to speak, “and we’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months…”

“Are you going to propose to me because I’ve not run away after date number two?” Harry loved how much shit you gave him. “But seriously you need to stand up before people think you’re being serious.”

“Okay okay,” he slowly got up, “I was going to say that… you can tell me if it’s too soon or too early but if I could’ve asked you this back when we first met I would’ve…”

You had a puzzled look on your face. He knows the face now, you pull it when you’re unsure, hesitant.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Plastic Hearts, Chapter Eight: Angels Like You

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!ofc (Violet)

rating: E (18+ only, angst, talks of addiction/recovery, oral (fem rec), unprotected piv, these two are so (maybe unhealthily) lovestruck, more angst but this time parental)

wc: 6.3k

series masterlist

December 22nd — Los Angeles, CA

Though Los Angeles never really got all that chilly in the winter, the city felt colder than it had in years as Violet drove down Sunset Boulevard with the top of her all-black BMW down, the wind whipping through her hair. 

Dieter had been in and out of the city for the past month working on the pre-production for his upcoming project, leaving her alone as she began to start her Oscar campaign for her lackluster movie. Even on the rare occasion that he was in town for an entire night, he seemed to be pulling further away from her with every passing day, but she couldn’t blame him, especially after the incident at the club and his discovery that she was using. 

Violet spent most of her free nights driving all over the city. This ritual had become sort of holy and precious to her. She needed the roof to be down, the heater and music to be on high, and most important of all, Dieter’s thick, brown coat bundling her up. She couldn’t explain why, but this was the closest she ever came to replicating the feeling of being with Dieter; the thrill of the icy wind hitting her face, the music so loud all of her thoughts were silenced, the warmth of his scent enveloping her making her feel safer than she’d felt in her entire life. 

It was nearing two in the morning when Violet’s BMW rolled back into her driveway, the music and the heater going silent in an instant. She sat there in the quiet evening air for a moment, steel-faced as she stared ahead at her shiny new mansion, but internally there was no feeling of success or fulfillment to be found. 

After forcing herself inside, Violet kicked off her shoes and slugged into the kitchen to make herself something to eat, a once, or twice if she was in a particularly good mood, a day task lately. She had only just opened the fridge when she was interrupted by an urgent thought—where the fuck is my phone?—the ache in her stomach momentarily dismissed as she patted herself down before running off on a hunt. 

Finding it upstairs on her bed, she was shocked to find three missed calls from Dieter, especially since she’d only heard from him once in the last week. She immediately dialed his number, putting the phone on speaker as she headed back downstairs into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Dieter’s voice crackled through her speaker, bringing a smile to her face even with his almost indifferent tone. “Called a few times.”

“I’m sorry, I was driving,” she said, setting the phone down on the island. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just missed you,” he said, sincerity mixing with something unknown turning his tone sadder than she would’ve hoped. “Been so busy, all these meetings and shit. Sorry if it feels like…I don’t know. Like I’m not here.”

“S’alright,” she managed, a lump forming in her throat at the constant tension between them. “We are good though…right?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ he sighed. She could imagine the way his hand anxiously was rubbing at his jaw. “Shit’s…been a little weird lately. But we’re—you and I are still—I still love you.”

“Still?” she repeated, scoffing under her breath. “How fortunate am I that you still love me.”

“Violet,” he sighed. “Do you really want to go there?”

“Honestly, yeah,” she snapped, abandoning all hope for a meal tonight as she walked over to the island and stared at her screen as though she were glaring at him face to face. 

“It’s hard for me to be around you when I know that you’re still fucking using. That’s all. Yes, I still love you. I still love you even though it’s fucking hard and dangerous and a slippery fucking slope for me,” he said, a sharpness in his voice that she had yet to hear from him in the six months of knowing him. 

“I’m not using,” she countered weakly, not even believing her own lie. 

“Vi, pretending like you don’t have a problem doesn’t mean you don’t still have a problem,” he softened his voice. “I just want you to get help, but you’re not. You keep saying you’ll quit cold turkey and it doesn’t fucking work. Trust me.”

“Is that what I have to do to see you?” she asked, her voice breaking a bit as tears flooded over her waterline. 

“You can’t make this about me,” he sighed. 

“I have to. I don’t want to stop, but you want me to,” she said. “And I want you more than anything. Especially lately.”

The line went silent for a few beats, prompting Violet to carry on with her tearful plea. 

“I want to see you, to go to bed with you, to touch you. It’s been a month since I got to spend more than a day with you, do you know that?”

“Trust me, it hasn’t been fucking easy for me either,” he exhaled. “But I need to set boundaries and shit. And a big boundary is that if you’re using or if there’s shit at the house, I can’t be there. I can’t be with you, and I can’t be there.” 

“Then I’m done using,” she said decidedly, as if recovery was as simple as making a declaration. 

“Baby,” he sighed for the thousandth time in five minutes. “Find a rehab, or some sort of accountability program—“

“Christmas is literally in three days,” she chuckled. “After the holidays, I will.”

“Okay,” he managed after a beat, still not sounding his usual self. 

“Okay, so…can I come see you for Christmas?” she said, biting her lip nervously. 

“Yeah, you know, as long as you respect this line I’m trying to draw,” he said. 

“Of course I will.” 

“Just to warn you, my awful parents decided they wanted to have an awful Christmas Eve together at their place, so…keep in mind you’ll have to deal with their passive aggressive bullshit.”

“That’s fine, I can be passive aggressive right back,” she said, smiling down at her screen as if nothing ever happened. Her knack for forgiveness was a trait she both deeply admired and utterly hated about herself. “I can’t wait to see you, D. Really. I’m gonna…gonna get my shit together. I’m just…I’m taking this loss of a movie really hard.”

“I know, baby,” he offered softly. “You’re doing your best to cope, I know that. I just—there’s better ways. I know it doesn’t feel like anything matches that high, but—“

“You do,” she cut in. “Being with you beats it.”

Dieter was quiet for a beat. “Fuck, I’ve really missed you.”

Violet smiled softly and nodded. “I’m gonna find a flight for tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby,” he hummed. “I’m sorry—for the way I’ve gone about all this shit. I should’ve said something instead of just pulling away. Wasn’t cool.”

“S’alright,” she said. “We’re good now.”

“Yeah. We’re good,” he agreed. “Call me before you head out?”

“You gonna pick up?” she teased, earning a chuckle. 

“Yes,” he snarked and Violet laughed, the sound fading into a more comfortable silence than she was used to as of late. Dieter must have felt the shift back to normalcy as well, his voice soft as he spoke again. “You know I love you more than anything, Violet.”

“I know,” she hummed, her smile tender as she stared at his contact picture on her screen. “I love you, D,” she mused. “M’gonna go get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” he rasped. “Have a good night, V. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night night.”

Dieter’s month had been long and grueling, constantly flying back and forth between New York and LA, New York and London, London and Germany, all to meet studio executives without an ounce of creativity in their bones and kiss ass until they were sure his role in the movie could suit their monetary desires. On top of all of this, he felt like he was working a full time job trying to figure out his situation with Violet after the big blowout at the club. Everytime he sought outside advice, he heard the same shit. 

It’s not safe for your sobriety to be with someone who’s using, his therapist said. This shit is toxic, Andrea said. If it comes out that Violet’s on coke, they’re all going to blame you, his publicist said. 

But of course it was cut and dry for them. 

They didn’t love her. They didn’t know her. They weren’t him, didn’t feel the way he did about life, didn’t know what it was like to meet someone who just fucking gets it. 

It wasn’t as simple as saying goodbye and moving on, but he couldn’t be with her the way he used to be anymore—as long as she was using, that is. 

He needed to put distance between them for a while while he figured out what to do about loving her the way he did and fearing it’s total control over him at the same time. 

Tonight, after a particularly difficult day spent at the office punctuated by a once a year call from his mother, he couldn’t keep himself distanced any longer. He needed to hear her voice, and more importantly, he needed to finally lay out his terms for their relationship. 

After the call ended, he still only felt partly relieved. There was this selfish child deep within him that was clinging onto the thought of seeing her again that couldn’t be tamed. That desperate, love starved boy had no care in the world about what could happen if she started using around him again—he was just glad she was there. The other, more mature part of him resembled more of the man who he saw in the mirror. This man had been let down by love every time he’s felt it. This man knew that sometimes you just fucking lose in the end. This man had, through multiple relapses and years of falling on and off the wagon, finally gotten sober, finally had his career back to where he wanted it, and this man knew that all it would take is one slip up for it all to go to shit. 

He hoped she was being sincere about getting clean, but as the old saying goes, hope is a dangerous thing to have. 

It hadn’t snowed the entire month, but as if the city was just waiting for Violet to come home, New York was covered in a soft blanket of white ice as soon as she touched ground. Dieter couldn’t help but smile at the coincidence as he stood in front of a large glass window in the airport, watching as Violet’s plane hit the tarmac. 

By the time she came walking towards him with a wide, smitten grin hidden beneath her thick wool scarf, Dieter had managed to forget all about his concerns regarding the state of their relationship.

“Excuse me? Can I get a picture? I’m a big fan,” she teased, sliding her arms around his waist as he pulled her in for the tightest hug of her life, swaying her side to side with his face buried in her scarf. 

“Missed you, Apollo,” he mumbled, squeezing her tighter before letting her go just enough to look at her, his hands lifting to frame her face. “A shit ton.”

“I missed you, Bravo,” she said, her eyes tracing the curve of his bottom lip. Dieter took her cue and leaned down, his fingers holding her chin as he kissed her soft and slow until it started to get too heated for Violet’s comfort given their current location. “Maybe we shouldn’t make out in an airport?”

“Bathroom?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Violet laughed and swatted his hip before shaking her head and pulling herself away from him. 

“Lame,” he teased, shooting her a smirk as he grabbed her suitcase with one hand and Violet’s hand with the other, lifting it to his lips to kiss it as they headed through the dull terminal. 

“Where’ve you been staying?” she asked in the backseat of the towncar Dieter ordered to pick them up. 

She could hardly keep herself composed, every atom of her being singing now that she was back where she belonged. She sat in the middle seat, Dieter holding her hand on top of her lap. The proximity of his fingers to where she’d been craving them, where she knew they’d excel at making her feel better than anyone before him ever had, was turning her thoughts feral, and so, she went searching for a distraction. 

“I’m renting a place in the West Village,” he said, letting go of her hand to rest his across her thigh, his fingertips nestling between her legs. “It’s nice. Has a studio, so I’ve been painting again.”

“Yeah?” she asked, airy but focused as she watched his hand flex with every stroke of his thumb over her dotted black nylon tights. “Paint anything for me?”

Dieter smiled, his eyes fixed on his hand as well. 

“S’probably all for you,” he managed, drawing her eyes to meet his. “Fucking missed you, V.”

“Come here,” she said, her hand fitting to mold against his cheek as she pulled him down to kiss her, neither of them caring about the driver seeing. “Don’t wanna be apart anymore. This sucks.”

“I know,” he sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder. “It’s not working for me, either.”

“I’ll…” She stopped herself, glancing at the back of the driver’s head. “I’ll do better. About everything. I just want you.”

“I can help,” he offered, keeping his voice hushed as he lifted his head to look at her. “We can figure it out.”

“Yeah?” she smiled, her brows lacing together as if she was about to cry. Dieter poked his bottom lip out at the sight and nodded. 

“It’s you and I, kid.”

“God, I missed New York,” Violet mused as she and Dieter walked back to his apartment after having dinner at Dieter’s favorite sushi spot, the city looking extra magical from the snow and festive lights on every building. She was bundled up like a true Californian, Dieter’s arm hugged close to her chest. 

“You should move here,” he said, pulling her eyes to the side of his face as he continued looking ahead. “You seem happier here. You have friends. We could…we could move in together. If you did.”

“What about my place in LA?” she asked, letting go of his arm to hold his hand instead as they stopped at a crosswalk to wait for traffic to pass. 

“Keep it,” he shrugged, reaching to fix her beanie so that it covered her ears better. 

“Really?” she asked, biting her lip. Dieter shook his head at the effect such a small action had on him, his lips lowering to meet hers for a small, necessary-for-his-survival kiss. 

“After I finish filming,” he mumbled against her lips. Violet tensed at the mention of his impending absence turning her mood sour. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said, gently pushing him away as the light for the crosswalk changed, signaling the all-clear. 

They walked together in silence for a moment, neither one of them knowing how to continue to avoid the looming fact that their relationship only seemed to fare well when they were together, and soon they wouldn’t be. 

“Your parents,” Violet started, breaking the silence. “What’s that gonna be like?”

“Dull as fuck,” Dieter chuckled and shook his head. “My mom is going to pretend to be the most elegant human being you’ve ever met, and my dad’s probably going to use complimenting you as a way to insult me.” 

“I don’t think your dad’s going to compliment me after what happened at SNL,” Violet said. 

“Forgot about that,” Dieter smirked. “Feels like such a long time ago.”

“We weren’t even together then,” she smiled at him. “Two idiots.”

“I’m still an idiot,” he said, leading them up the steps of his apartment and unlocking the door. “Treated you like shit lately.”

“D,” she frowned as they peeled off their layers in the entryway. “You needed distance, it wasn’t shitty.”

“The way I did it was,” he argued. “And I’m going to disappear again next month for filming—“

“I don’t want to think about that, Dieter,” she sighed, heading down the hall to the living room, finding her place on the sofa while he walked into the adjoining kitchen. 

“We should talk about it,” he replied over the hiss of a bottle of sparkling water being opened. “I’m gone three months—“

“Shhh,” she groaned, laying facedown on the couch dramatically. 

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not still here,” Dieter teased, making his way around the island to walk over to her, crawling on top of her. 

“You’re heavy,” she croaked from beneath him. 

“I have to leave,” he said, kissing her ear. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Okay, get up. I’ll talk,” she sighed, waiting for his weight to leave her before sitting up and facing him. “You want me to come with you to…?”

“Germany for a month, London for the other two,” he said, lifting his water to his lips. 

“I have award season,” she said. “I’ll have to fly back and forth from Germany and LA.”

“So do I,” he countered. “To be with you when you win.”

Violet rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Shut up.”

“At least come to Germany,” he begged, using those eyes of his on her. 

“I suppose I can do Germany,” she said, smiling at him as she crawled onto his lap, her arms draping over his shoulders. “It’s going to be freezing and miserable, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s gonna be shit,” he mumbled, his hands sliding her sweater up and off her frame, leaving her in a lacy black bra, a black skirt, and black tights. His eyes darted rapidly from her thighs to her chest to her face and back down again, unable to choose a favorite sight. “But you’re going to make it bearable.”

“Andrea’s gonna be pissed you’re bringing me,” Violet whispered as Dieter slipped her bra straps off her shoulders, his face burying in her cleavage while his hands kneaded at her ass under her skirt. 

“She can fuck off,” he murmured, sliding his hands up her back to unclasp her bra. “Look at you, baby.”

“I’ve been neglected,” she smiled, combing her fingers through his dark curls as he cupped the weight of her breasts with both hands, his lips pressing wet kisses on every inch of skin he could find. 

“Yeah? I’m a fucking idiot,” he mumbled, swiping his tongue over one of her stiff peaks, earning a roll of her hips. Dieter moaned at the taste of her, one hand cupping her breast while the other slid down her spine to guide her hips against his cock strained beneath black denim. 

“Take this off,” she whispered, tugging at his sweater. Dieter quickly obeyed, shucking the cashmere off his body while Violet lowered herself to the floor, her hands working the button of his jeans open. 

“I got this, you work on taking that skirt off,” he ordered, peeling his jeans off. 

“And the tights?”

“Leave them on,” he said, licking his lips as he sat back against the couch. His legs were spread, his fist slowly stroking his cock as he watched her slide her black mini-skirt off with lust drunken eyes, leaving her in only a pair of black tights and a black thong underneath. “Fuck me. Look at you.” 

Violet smiled adoringly as she walked to stand between his open knees, Dieter’s hands finding her hips. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses to her stomach while his hands slid around to squeeze her ass before ripping her tights right down the middle. 

“These are expensive,” she scolded through a giggle, allowing him to spin her around so that her ass was facing him. 

“This fucking ass,” he groaned, almost pained by his desire for the woman in front of him. “Wanna take a bite out of it.”

“Yeah?” she taunted, turning to look back at him from over her shoulder, a finger between her teeth. “Go on, then.”

Dieter smiled and shook his head. “Bend over, baby.” 

Violet did as he asked, bending over and holding onto the coffee table for stability as she spread her legs a little wider for him, Dieter’s moan confirming that she’d done a good job at following directions. 

“Pretty fucking pussy,” he cooed, moving her thong to the side and swiping a thumb through the mess of arousal coating her lower lips. “You want my tongue, baby?”

“Mmhm,” she purred, arching her back for him. Dieter groaned as he palmed the round globes of her ass with both hands, bringing his teeth to the soft flesh to give her a lovebite. 

“I could write a sonnet about your ass,” he mumbled, leaving wet kisses on both cheeks as he stripped her thong off and tossed it across the room, leaving her in only a pair of ripped tights. “Shall I compare this ass to a summer’s day?”

“Shut up,” she giggled, standing upright and turning around to face him. Dieter’s hands found her waist, his eyes round as they peered up at her. She carded her fingers through his hair before tugging on it, earning a soft moan. Tracing her finger across his bottom lip, she smirked at the look of sheer obedience coming from this beautiful man she’d somehow stumbled into love with against all reason or odds. “I wanna sit on this pretty face of yours, Bravo.”

“Fuck, okay, baby,” Dieter groaned, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing it to fight off the ache of arousal turning him into pudding at her feet. “Can I—can we turn the fireplace on first?” 

“Why?” she laughed. 

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to fuck in front of a fireplace,” he shrugged. 

“And you, Dieter Bravo, a retired, semi-professional whore, haven’t done that yet?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as she leaned down to ghost her lips over his, her hands cupping his cheeks. 

“Not…here,” he shrugged. “And certainly not with you.”

“Who was it?” Violet asked with an amused smile. “Someone famous?”

“Probably, hard to remember when I’ve got your tits in my face,” he said, his eyes fixed on her chest before finally making their way back up to meet hers. “Anyways, is that a yes to the fireplace?”

“Sure,” she laughed, stepping aside to let him get up and walk over to the built in hearth. Dieter stood there, butt-naked, his dick half-hard, scratching his chin as he stared at the modern fireplace. “Do you even know how to—“

“Please, I’ve won an Oscar, I think I can figure out how to light a fire,” Dieter snarked, though he remained visibly clueless. 

“I think there’s a switch on the side, baby.”

“Right. I knew that,” Dieter pressed the switch and lit the fire, earning a sarcastic round of applause from Violet as she stood watching him. 

“You’re very pretty, you know?” she asked, meeting him in front of the fire. She cupped his cheeks again and smiled at him as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her naked body close to his. 

“Did you know who I was before we met?” Dieter asked, sliding his hands lower to rest just above her ass. 

“You’ve been an A-list celebrity for the last twenty years,” she smirked. “Of course I knew who you were.”

“Were you into me?” he smiled, leaning in to press featherlight kisses against her collarbone. 

“Not really,” she sighed, feeling drunk from his touch. “Thought you were a douche.”

“Good judge of character,” he whispered just below her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth. 

“What about me?” she asked breathlessly, melting into him as he started to lower them down onto the faux fur rug beneath them until she was flat on her back and he was hovering on top of her. “Did you think I was pretty?”

“I thought you were very pretty,” he replied, a soft, lazy grin on his face. “And I thought you looked like a prude.”

“Little did you know, I’m the opposite,” she quipped. 

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “A prude wouldn’t climb on top of my face and ride it like you’re about to.”

“Nope,” she grinned, pushing his shoulders to gesture for him to trade positions with her. 

Once Dieter was on his back, Violet assumed her position over his face and grinned down at him between her thighs, his eager eyes and plump lips glowing in the orange light of the fire. 

“Come on, baby,” he goaded her on, squeezing her thighs to pull her down to his impatient tongue. “Let me taste this pretty pussy.”

“Dirty mouth,” she purred, seating herself on his tongue and rocking her hips, one hand gripping his curls. 

At the feeling of his tongue against her, wet and soft and warm, she felt herself crumble just a little bit, softening into the rarest form of herself—a person she saved just for Dieter. “Fuck, D.”

He hummed and gripped her thighs, seemingly unable to get close enough to her. She responded to his neediness with a long, choked whine and her eyes on his, her face wrecked with pleasure that looked more like pain. 

“Your mouth is so—“ She shuddered at a spark of pleasure brought on by his lips surrounding her swollen bud, sucking it into his mouth. “Jesus, D. Fuck. Baby, keep doing that.”

One of Dieter’s hands left the top of her thighs to palm a handful of her ass, guiding her as she rolled her hips against his mouth, taking from him in a way that made it feel like she was giving him something instead. It was addicting, the sight of her chasing her pleasure so unabashedly, one hand tangled in his hair and the other kneading the weight of her breast. 

“I’m so close,” she gasped, her movements getting sharper and more desperate. “Fuck, I’m—fuck.” 

“That’s it,” his praise was a suffocated rasp against her as she came, both of her hands planting onto the floor above his head as she rode out the waves of her climax. Dieter’s hands slid up her spine and back down, over and over again until she relaxed and sat back to look down at him with a satisfied grin. “So fucking hot, baby.” 

“Look who’s talking,” she purred, sliding down his body to sit her still sensitive cunt over his cock, her hand lightly gripping his chin as she bent down to give him a deep, greedy kiss. “You should win an award for what this mouth is capable of.”

“Yeah?” he smiled, sliding his hands down her back to rest on her hips, urging her to rock forward against the throbbing underside of his cocl as it laid sandwiched between her cunt and his stomach. “What about my dick?”

“Your mouth gets ‘Best Supporting’,” she said, lifting her hips and reaching back to line him up with her cunt. Dieter’s jaw dropped, his eyes falling between their bodies to watch as she slowly took him down to the base. “But this dick…” She hummed, the satisfying burn of his size bringing a smile to her face. “This dick is the main event.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned, sitting upright and wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in her neck. “You make me so fucking hard, V.”

“Yeah?” she moaned into his ear, biting on the lobe just to feel him shiver. 

“Fucking own me,” he rasped, biting her shoulder. “My fucking girl.”

It was Violet’s turn to crumble for him, the possessiveness in his voice stoking the flame of arousal that was already burning brightly in her belly. 

“Want you to fuck me,” she whined, placing both hands in his face to guide his gaze up to meet hers. “Want you to bend me over.”

“Yeah?” he groaned, squeezing the globes of her ass so hard she hoped it would leave a mark for her to remember this by. “Want it soft, baby?”

Violet shook her head. 

“No, you want it rough, don’t you?” he hummed at her choked sob, her walls pulsing at the sound of his voice. 

“Please,” she begged, breathless and desperate. 

“Okay, baby,” he cooed, stroking over her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Go on, bend over for me.”

Violet’s legs shook as she scrambled off of him and onto her knees, her face buried in the rug, facing the fire as it crackled.

Dieter could’ve cum from the sight before him, Violet’s back arched, the light from the flames casting an orange glow in some places, a dark shadow in others. She was still wearing her tights, sheer black contrasting against her olive toned flesh, the pink of her exposed center. Spitting into his hand and stroking it over the fat tip of his length, he found the strength to stave off his orgasm in favor of giving her another. She deserved it. 

She deserved everything in his mind. 

“Gonna fuck you full of me,” he rasped as he slid back into her, his eyes glued to the side of her face as she turned her head, her hands clawing at the fur beneath her. “Shit, baby. You look—fuck, it’s unreal.”

“D, please,” she cried, her voice choppy from the harsh snap of his hips into hers, her body absorbing the shock like a pro. “Wanna cum so bad.”

“Need anything, baby?” he asked, his breathing ragged and sharp. “Need me to touch you?”

She nodded her head quickly. 

“Where?” 

“Everywhere,” she breathed, her eyes flickering shut as he honed in on a devastating spot inside of her. 

“Here?” Dieter asked, reaching around her body to rub perfect circles against her clit. 

“Fuck,” she cried, long and drawn out. 

“What about here?” he growled, licking the pad of his thumb on his free hand before resting it over her ass, pressing into the muscle gently. 

“Dieter, shit—“ she gasped, warmth trickling up her spine and down her thighs at the feeling of him all around her, taking all she had to give him greedily. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m—fuck.”

“Good fucking girl,” he grunted, snapping his hips to punctuate each word. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” she cried. “Want it all.”

“Shit—“ Dieter’s eyes lowered to where they were connected, watching as his cock pulsed with every spurt of his cum painting her walls, his brows furrowed and lips parted in awe. “Fuck, I’m still coming, baby.”

Violet hummed, fucking herself against him just to hear him whimper, his hands landing on her hips. 

“Don’t get me going again,” he said. “I’ll pull a muscle.”

Violet laughed, slowly pulling away until he slipped out of her. Dieter hissed at the loss of warmth, instantly moving to lay next to her, the fire making up for the snow outside that chilled his apartment. 

“I’m fucking dreading tomorrow,” Dieter sighed, nuzzling his head against Violet’s chest as she scratched at his scalp. 

“Your parents?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, kissing over her pounding heartbeat. “I might not be able to take it and just fucking leave.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said, her voice softening with exhaustion. “We can leave whenever. You don’t owe them anything just because they birthed you.”

“They don’t see it that way,” he mumbled. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, pushing him to lay back so that she could lay on his chest instead. 

“I’m glad you came,” he said, almost asleep. “Love you. Shit tons.”

“Mm,” she smiled. “Shit tons.”

“Alright, if they start to act like dicks, we’re leaving,” Dieter said, his finger hovering over the doorbell of his parent’s place in Dumbo, a gray-brick building with a navy blue door. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Violet smiled, lifting her hand to his back to rub comforting circles on it. “C’mon, you got this.”

Dieter chuckled and let out a deep sigh before pressing the doorbell, his hands tapping on his legs anxiously. 

When his mother, Marianne, opened the door, she almost looked like a normal person to her son and not the villain he was used to facing only in memory. Her once-black hair had turned a sophisticated gray, her old Hollywood waves reminiscent of her glory days in the sixties and seventies—the woman Dieter studied in film since she was never around to study in person. 

“Dieter,” Marianne beamed, placing her hand delicately over the pearls on her neck. “Look at you. And your friend! Violet, is it?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded, offering Marianne a more polite smile than Dieter was used to seeing. “We briefly met when Dieter hosted SNL.”

“I don’t remember you hosting,” Marianne chuckled, turning to her son. 

“Checks out,” Dieter replied dryly. “Can we come inside?”

“Yes, come in,” Marianne moved aside to let Violet and Dieter inside her very blue home, the walls, ceilings, and floor all a different, complimentary shade. “Your father is in the living room, Dieter.”

“Okay,” Dieter managed. 

“Violet, you can come help me set the table,” Marianne said, waving for Violet to follow her as she disappeared down the hall into the dining room. Violet turned to give Dieter a pleading look as she forced herself onward.

“I can help, too,” Dieter said, joining the two of them. 

“Oh, please,” Marianne rolled her eyes. “Go say hello to your father.”

“In a minute,” Dieter returned, reaching for the pile of silverware to start sealing it out. 

“Dieter. Now.” 

Dieter scoffed at her attempt at authority. She never had any reason to perfect it. 

“You’re impossible,” she spat. 

“Alright, I think we’re gonna go,” Dieter said, dropping the silverware in his hands.

“What?” 

“We tried. I tried to tolerate you, but, really, it’s hard,” Dieter said, turning to Violet. “Let’s go?”

“Sure,” Violet said, giving him a soft nod and following him as he led them out of the room and into the hall. 

“Dieter, where are you going?” Dieter’s father, Ed, walked into the foyer and narrowed his eyes at his son as Dieter slipped his boots and jacket back on while Violet followed suit. “It’s Christmas Eve. You’re supposed to be with family.”

“I am,” Dieter said, reaching for Violet’s hand to lead her outside into the icy Brooklyn air. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t deal—“

“You don’t have to apologize,” she cooed, wrapping her arm around his waist as they started back in the direction of the subway. Dieter pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head. 

“I love you,” he muttered, squeezing her into him. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for letting me,” she smiled, kissing the tiny, heart-shaped bald spot on his jaw. “So…Chinese for dinner?”

“Fuck, yes,” he nearly moaned. 

It was relatively busy at the small, family-run Chinese place Dieter chose, his claims of the best soup dumplings in the city sounding too enticing to pass up. 

Now, Dieter and Violet sat in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, cuddled up without a care for the table of young tourists who were clearly snapping pictures of the two of them. 

“So, Germany,” Dieter started, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “They’ve got me in a hotel, but I was thinking we could maybe rent a place. Have more space and not feel like we’re in a prison the entire time.”

“Where in Germany are you filming?” Violet asked, sipping her diet coke through a straw. 

“Munich,” he replied, stealing a dumpling from her plate. “I was there once for a press thing. It’s pretty, I think you’ll like it.”

“Well, if I don’t, Italy’s right there,” she smiled. “I can just run off to Venice whenever you piss me off.”

“Great, then I’ll come chase after you and we’ll add Italy to the list of countries we’ve fucked in,” he smiled back, waving his fork at her until she laughed. Proud of himself, Dieter leaned over and stole a kiss, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“You weren’t supposed to get me a gift,” she frowned. “I didn’t get you one.”

“I don’t need shit,” he shook his head. 

“You could do with a new robe,” she snarked, taking another sip of her drink while Dieter gave her an unimpressed look. “Fine. I’ll take my gift now, please.”

“Okay, so it’s not…it’s not physically with me because it’s back at my place,” Dieter said, reaching for his phone again to search for something on it. “You remember when we went to the museum—a million fucking years ago?” 

Violet laughed and nodded. “Well, I remembered you liked Monet a lot, but I couldn’t just fucking buy a Monet, so instead…” Dieter faced his phone screen towards her, showing her a very close attempt at Monet’s Water Lillies. 

“D, did you paint this?” she beamed, zooming in on the picture to study the details. 

“Yeah,” he bit his lip as he watched her. “It’s not…perfect. But—“

“But it is,” she turned to him with a touched smile. “It’s you.”

Dieter looked shy as Violet turned back to the picture. 

“I can’t believe I’m the owner of an original Bravo painting,” Violet grinned, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder as she passed his phone back to him. “Thank you, D. I love it and I love you.”

Dieter kissed her forehead and smiled. “Love it enough to try the sex-swing that I ordered as a backup gift?”

[jonesbrianshining]

Anita Pallenberg and Brian Jones

Letters from America. July 25, 1966. Brian: "I'm writing this letter in our hotel room in Los Angeles, three days before the end of our American tour. In addition to the concert here tonight, we have two more shows to play - tomorrow (Tuesday) in San Francisco and on Hawaiian Islands on the 28th. As for me, I probably won't be back in England before mid-August - I don't want to leave Los Angeles. Whether the others will stay, I don't know… …I love Los Angeles, there is something special about it, something mine. I dreamed about it for so long at home, in England - about good weather and the sun, about Cadillacs driving along Sunset Boulevard, about huge houses with swimming pools and music ala Beach Boys. I often find myself thinking that I would like to live here in one of these houses and have my own swimming pool, but it will never happen - I am too attached to England."

text and photo via beatles.ru

[transit-fag]

12 trains enter the semifinals, tonight there will now 6 polls to vote in

Meet our lovely quarter finalists

California Zephyr- running from Chicago to Seattle

The City of New Orleans - running from Chicago to New Orleans

Sunset Limited - Running from LA to New Orleans with an extension to Mobile on the way

Empire Builder - running from Chicago to Seattle

Cardinal - Running from New York to Chicago through Cincinnati

Maple leaf -Running from NYC to Toronto

Northeast Regional- Running from DC to New York to Boston

Acela - Running at high speed from DC to New York then to Boston

Coast Starlight - Running from Los Angeles to Seattle

Lakeshore Limited - Running from Chicago to New York and Boston

Cascades - Running from Portland to Vancouver

Capitol Limited - Running from Chicago to DC

[6sixx6sexual6]

hi! i was wondering if you could write something about tramp!tommy lee x lady!reader inspired by lady and the tramp? thank u! :)

HII OMG I HAVEN'T WRITTEN LIKE A LENGTHY THING IN FOREVER SO I USED THIS TO REMEMBER WHAT IT'S LIKE. SORRY IF ITS NOT COMPLETELY WHAT YOU WANTED BUT I TRIED. ALSO I LOOOVE RACCOONS AND I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF I HAD TO ADD SOMETHING. (I HAVE 24,353 PINS OF RACCOONS SAVED ON PINTEREST..)

word count:464

warnings: none. probably a little cringe😭

Leather and Lace

in the neon-lit streets of Sunset Strip, there existed an unlikely pair: Tommy Lee, the wild drummer of Mötley Crüe, and you, a refined lady with a penchant for classy fashion. Their paths collided one smoky night at the legendary Whisky a Go Go.

Tommy, with his tousled hair and his carefree attitude, was the embodiment of rock ‘n’ roll excess. He’d just finished a raucous gig, sweat-soaked and adrenaline-fueled. His leather jacket clung to him like a second skin, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

And then there you were —graceful, with a hint of rebellion. you wore lace gloves and a pastel wrap dress that went down to your knees, your eyes framed by kohl-lined perfection. you had wandered into the Whisky, seeking solace from the chaos of life.

yours and tommy's eyes met across the dimly lit room, he was no stranger here and he's seen you the few times you've been here. Tommy, the Tramp, swaggered over, drumsticks still in hand. “Hey, I'm Tommy.im sure you've seen me.” he drawled, “you look like you could have a drink.”

you raised an eyebrow. “And you look like you’ve had one too many.”

He grinned. “Guilty as charged. But tonight, I’m looking for something different. Something real.”

you hesitated, torn between her polished facade and the allure of the Sunset Strip. “I’m not your typical groupie, Tommy.”

He leaned in, close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “Good. Because I’m not your typical rock star.”

And so began their unlikely courtship. Tommy took you on motorcycle rides through Los Angeles, the wind whipping your hair as you both raced toward the stars. They danced at the Rainbow Room, swaying to ballads (even if it wasn't tommys thing but he did it for you), your hearts beating in sync.

But it wasn’t all glitz and glam. Tommy had demons—the kind that haunted hotel rooms and echoed in empty bottles. And you had secrets—the kind that whispered of a past you left behind.

One moonlit night, both sat on the rooftop of the Roxy, overlooking the city. Tommy traced circles on your lace-covered hand. “you know,” he said, “I’ve never met anyone like you.. well, been with anyone like you.”

you chuckled and leaned into his shoulder. “And you are unlike anyone I’ve ever known.. well, been with anyone like you.” you copied.

They shared stories—the highs and lows, the broken dreams and the electric nights. Tommy confessed his fear of fading into obscurity, and [Your Name] revealed her love for raccoons—their masked faces and nocturnal wanderings.

And so, under the L.A stars, they kissed—a collision of rock ‘n roll and elegance. Tommy Lee, the Tramp, and you, the Lady, found their rhythm in the chaos of Mötley nights and lace-clad mornings.

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

One of Your Kind (Ch. 8)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10

Word count: 4.0K

Summary: within hot girls summer and cute dates, November’s finally here and Wednesday’s finally streaming.

Warnings: make out session

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

———

May went by quickly. Jenna wanted to spend it alone with her family after being away from home for so long and of course you let her, knowing how much she cared about them, but you still obviously talked every night and every moment you could, without bothering her. She was getting called on interviews, the trailer for Wednesday season 1 will be released in August and there were already quite a few sneak peeks. As June came the two of you started hanging out more, whether it was at her place or around town: she knew that this show would make her quite a lot famous so she decided to take adventure of this remaining time to be herself and go around town without too many people recognizing her. She always wore sunglasses as to get recognized less, but you didn't mind as long as you were with her.

"Where are we going?" She asked you, as you drove slightly out of town. “You'll see when we get there" you teased only to watch her groan in annoyance. You reached some small forest with a trail, and you parked the car. “What, you're gonna take me here and kill me?" She giggled and you did too "well you're Wednesday here so it should be the other way around" you teased "I'm gonna need to cover your eyes. You trust me right?" She nodded and so did you, you covered her eyes and led her through the woods to the final destination."You're so gonna like this" you said as you gave her a peck on the cheek. You had brought her on top of a hill, the trees behind you and from there you could see the whole Los Angeles. You had set up everything you needed for a picnic, you had laid a blanket on the grass and had took some snacks. It was sunset so the view would be even better. As soon as you uncovered her eyes her jaw dropped and she looked down at what you had set up, she was stunned.

“This is my hideout" you started and wrapped your arms around her from behind "whenever I'm too overwhelmed or stressed I come here and relax. No one ever comes here and I never brought anyone here before you so we can make this our place?" You said and looked at her with a small smile “it can be your hideout too, for when you feel like you need alone time” you kissed her cheek again. And waited for her reply. “This is beautiful” she had been speechless until now, “no one has ever done this for me” she said and turned around to look at you, anyone watching from miles away could understand that Jenna was so in love with you and you were too. “You deserve this. Tell you what, tonight the sky will be clear. I also bought some blankets, we could stargaze?” Jenna smiled brightly and obviously agreed, she has never done this before and she was glad that her first time stargazing would be with you.

You were laying down on the blanket you had put on the ground, the sun had just finished setting and a few stars were visible already. Jenna had already snuggled up to you and you had your arms wrapped around her keeping her close to you. “You know, I’ve been thinking about switching careers,” you started and Jenna immediately turned to look at you “what why?” She said and you shrugged. You hoped you wouldn’t upset her with what you were going to say. “I don’t know, I just feel like directing is not my field? I know it’s what I studied for, but it’s not gratifying you know? I want to have more recognition for what I do. Maybe I could try being an actress?” Your revelation got Jenna at loss of words. She wasn’t expecting this, not at all. She thought you loved your work so this kind of left her shocked. “Are you upset?” You asked, seeing as she wasn’t giving you a reply. “It’s just that you studied hard for this job,” she said and you looked down. “You may have not gotten what you wanted, but it’s gonna take time. Being a good actress takes time to, and you know that. I don’t like this idea of yours but I’ll support it no matter what because I love you”

She was right after all, but how could you continue with that job, if you didn’t like it anymore? You have always been like this, ever since you were a child. You started sports, and then left them because they were either too hard or you didn’t like them anymore. This aspect of yours has never changed and will never leave you. “I love you too” you said and gave her a small sad smile. You know what she thought, she thought that you were wasting your studies, your scholarship and everything you had worked so hard to get. And maybe she was right. So you decided to hang on a little more with this job and see where it took you.

You had grown really close to Jenna’s family, her mom treated you like her own child: she made sure your were eating alright, she made sure that you weren’t stressing yourself out like Jenna was, and in general she made sure you were fine... She was to you the mother you never had. And Aliyah was the sister you never had. You texted every day, even if it was sharing some memes or silly pictures, the two of you were always in contact. Eventually the beach days came too, Jenna was always inviting you to go to the beach with her family and this was one of those days. It was a Tuesday, when almost everyone would be working and both of you were less at risk of being recognized, and less people would be at the beach. Jenna had been very playful and that’s why as you were applying a sun protection Jenna threw some sand directly at your legs. This is one of the things you hate about the beach: the sand sticking on your skin.

“Do that again and I’ll throw you in the water” you warned giggling, trying to brush the sand away. Unfortunately for you she didn’t listen and threw sand at your other leg, trying not to laugh at the face you made. “You asked for this” you walked over and picked her up, throwing her over your shoulder “no!” She laughed “let me go!” She kept laughing as you made your way towards the water, getting in until the water was slightly above your waist, her family laughing as they watched you from the beach “is the water cold?” She asked but you smirked and ignored her question “this is for not listening to me” you said and threw her in the water. For a brief second you saw her plug her nose and then you saw her emerge from the water with her mouth opened in an “O” shape from how cold the water was, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her face “you got what you deserved” you laughed and she did the same, as she splashed you. You nearly made the same face she did before and splashed her back.

You kept splashing each other and eventually you decided to “prank” her. You went underwater when she had her eyes closed from the water, and she soon noticed you weren’t splashing her anymore. “(Y/N)? Where are you?” She looked around, and you jumped up from behind her wrapping your arms around her as you heard her scream from the jump scare, but eventually she turned around in your arms and saw you smile at her “you’re even prettier in a bikini” you whispered and she smiled brightly before pulling you in for a sweet kiss, the kiss was salty due to the sea water as your lips danced in perfect sync, your arms in the small of her back and hers around your shoulders. At the moment it seemed that both of you didn’t care if her family was watching you, you didn’t care if paparazzis were around you were just living in the moment. You don’t get this many intimate moments with her so you took advantage of the few you had.

You weren’t even aware of the fact that her sisters were taking pictures of the two of you, but you just looked so cute that they HAD to take those pictures for you to keep. The morning at the beach was peaceful, but in the evening more people started coming and you had to keep affections low to a minimum. It was automatic now and both of you didn’t mind, as long as fans attentions were lowered to a minimum. And that’s exactly how it was, not many people knew her yet, maybe a little bit more after the fallout came out but still it wasn’t much. There were a couple girls asking her for photos and she always, happily obliged. Though you wondered, how would her fame affect your relationship? “What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Jenna asked after sitting down from the third photo of the day. She played with your hair with a small smile. “Nothing I was just thinking…”

“Thinking of what?” She asked you and you sighed. “You do realize that this show will make you hell of a lot more famous right?” She nodded and sighed, looking away from you, probably thinking the same things you were “how will it work for us? I mean- you probably won’t have time… with all the interviews and stuff.. I don’t know how relationships work in the acting field and.. I’m kinda scared” you looked down as well, taking a hold of her hand. “Babe… nothing’s gonna bring us apart. Not fame, not interviews, nothing. I’ll take you with me on interviews, awards and everything. I need you with me.” She said and made you look up at her placing a hand under your chin. You looked at her hopeful. “Are you.. sure?” You asked and she nodded, that small smile of hers you loved showing “yes I’m sure” she was about to give you a small kiss when two girls came up asking for another picture.

Then on another occasion, the two of you had gone out after dinner, just walking together into a park, hand in hand as you weren’t worried about paparazzis anymore. There weren’t many around her, just yet, so you didn’t have to worry. You had been trying to set up the prettiest dates for her to enjoy, but deep down you wanted to make the best out of this relationship before she got too busy and you were managing so far. The park was empty at this time of night and there weren’t many lights around this park, especially not around the lake that was inside of it. It was a small lake, where people usually rented boats but you didn’t need to do so to make this a romantic date. You liked simple dates and Jenna did too, so this would do. The weather made this even more romantic, because at some point it started raining all of the sudden. You weren’t about to ruin the date because of some rain and kissing under it has always been one of your desires with Jenna.

“We should go back home” she started, neither of you had an umbrella so she put her hood on “wait” you stopped her “a kiss under the rain sounds romantic don’t you think?” You said with a small smile and she giggled, taking her hood off before getting on her toes to kiss you. The way the rain kept pouring on you became irrelevant as you picked her up, her legs wrapping around your waist as you shared the softest kiss ever. You were so in love with each other that it seemed unreal, it almost seemed like the love you see in movies and impossible to find real life, but the two of you had it. You had it and you couldn’t be happier off the fact that it was with her. When you pulled back you saw her smiling at you and giggling, as she laid her head on your shoulder. “What?” You laughed as well as you helped her get off of you. “Nothing, this was such a great idea, but my mom is going to kill us” she warned “I couldn’t agree more” you said and finally the two of you started heading to her place. You had basically been living there recently, Jenna didn’t want you to be alone and you didn’t want that either.

And she was right, her mother was mad at the two of you but you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. You had walked inside the house soaking and dripping, and when her mother pointed out the water trail you had left behind you you both lost it and started laughing non stop, Natalie eventually laughed too but basically ordered you to take a warm bath as to not get sick. Useless to say that you spent the whole time making out and just cuddling.

November arrived, Wednesday had just been released. You binge-watched the whole show in one day with her family, without Jenna as she insisted on not wanting to watch herself on screen. When watching it, you pointed out the scenes you directed, and only you noticed the differences of your scenes from Tim’s. His have better angulation, better lighting, better everything. In the meantime, with it only having been a week since Wednesday was released, Jenna’s fame had definitely increased. She wasn’t free of going in town without being recognized, she wasn’t free of hanging out with you or her family and it was stressing her out, way more than it should. You did your best, you tried being there for her, telling her that it was gonna be okay, that it was just the hype of the moment and that people were going to leave her alone, eventually.

It was the day of the premiere, you and Jenna had decided to sleep in as this would be a long, tiring day for her and she needed as much rest as possible, especially with all the stress she was enduring. You had woken up at around eleven in the morning, and as you rubbed your eyes you noticed that Jenna was sleeping in your arms. You gently played with the few wild hair that had gotten out of her messy bun, This was your way of waking her up gently and it always worked, she always woke up in a happy mood, Same as today. “Hmmm good morning” she said in a sleepy voice, and hid her face under your chin “good morning baby” you said and kissed her forehead, she gave you one of those sleepy smiles you loved. “Big day uh?” You said and she grunted, only pulling you in closer. “I don’t wannaaa” she dragged the last word and you only giggled in response. “I wanna be with you” she said and sleepily kissed your jaw.

As you were about to reply you got a notification on your phone. You grabbed it from your nightstand and took a look “HOLY SHIT” you nearly shouted, sitting up as you rushed your hands in your hair “what is it?” Jenna asked and sat up, “I got an invitation to the premiere-“ you said and she looked at you with a small smile “co-directors never get invited- this is not good” you said and got up, walking back and forth in the room “why is it not good exactly?” She asked as she crossed her legs. “I don’t have a dress? I don’t know how to do my make up I’m-I’m screwed” Jenna laughed and you stopped walking to look at her “what’s so funny?” You said and looked at her “babe, seriously? We have the same size, you’re just a bit taller. I can give you one of my dresses and my make up artists will do your make up and you’ll also have hair done” she said and you sighed, falling back on your bed. “Oh thank god” you said and watched her smile as well.

Her crew came sooner than expected after lunch. You couldn’t decide on a dress, they were all either too long, too short, too tight, too loose… how did Jenna deal with this every time was still a mystery to you, but you had to learn how to if you wanted to become an actress as well… so eventually you opted for this dress which you thought was very simple and didn’t steal Jenna’s spotlight, with the black dress and veil and everything she was just stunning. You were given white high heels, and you couldn’t even walk on them and it made Jenna laugh because you just looked so goofy, but with Jenna’s help you made it work.

Both you and Jenna decided that it would be a good idea to show up in two different cars as to not get too much attention, so you arrived first, just after Tim as the stars would be arriving later. You did get a few applauses, not as much as expected, but you’ll have time for that. You greeted Tim as you hadn’t seen him since you wrapped up filming and it was good seeing him again. The two of you were taken a few pictures, paparazzi mainly focusing on Tim but you didn’t mind. The actors started arriving, you knew Jenna would be the last to arrive because she wanted to build some suspense, so you took advantage of that time to catch up with Emma and everyone else. Emma basically jump-hugged you and you laughed as you hugged her back “so how are things going with Jenna?” She asked as she held your hands.

“Hush don’t say it out loud! People don’t know yet” luckily there wasn’t any attention on the two of you, the paparazzi were too busy greeting Gwendoline who had just arrived. “So you didn’t go public yet?” You shook your head, and Emma was about to speak again but she was called on the carpet for some photos and you stood there awkwardly, not many people knew you, and even less wanted pictures of you. When Jenna arrived your jaw nearly dropped. You had seen her in that dress back at her place, but not with hair and makeup done as well. She looked stunning to say the least. “You’re drooling” Emma said, you hadn’t even noticed her getting back at your side. “Shut up!” You giggled and nudged her shoulder. You went to greet Jenna and took advantage of the hug to tell her “you’re gorgeous” and it made her blush, but she laughed it off.

Eventually all of you were called on the carpet for some group photos, you as well as you stood by Tim and behind Jenna, you decided to “tease” her: paparazzis couldn’t see from this perspective so you gently traced your index finger on her spine, and you saw how she shivered under your touch, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss you, show everyone that you were hers, but she couldn’t, not yet. Soon enough everyone was being pulled away for interviews, and surprisingly you had one too. “(Y/N)(L/N) everyone! You look stunning tonight!” The woman said, and you smiled in response “thank you so much! You look good too” you replied back, “so how has this experience been for you? We know it’s your first important premiere” the interviewer said and you nodded “it is indeed. I have to say I was nervous at first, but now that everyone else arrived I’m feeling better”

“This show has definitely gotten a lot of attentions! How are you feeling about it?” You started noticing differences from positive interviews to negative ones “at first I was really, really scared. I mean we all know how my first project went, I was scared that my reputation would have ruined this show and I nearly gave up, but I had support. Me and Tim are very proud of how it turned out, I learned a lot from him” the woman nodded with a small smile as she continued with her questions. “You said you had support,” you nodded “how did your work get affected by friendships on set? I mean, you’re a pretty young director and you’re the same age as the actors right?” You nodded again and smiled “yeah, the others really played a really big part in my life during those months of filming. Especially Jenna, we already worked together on the fallout as you may know, but we got even closer, she’s one of the main reasons I didn’t give up” you nodded to yourself with a small smile, the interviewer seemed to be satisfied with your answer as she continued.

“Well we can definitely expect big things from you (Y/N)” you nodded in thanks “are you working on any project or planning to work on one?” Million dollars question. “Uhm I’m actually thinking of switching careers” you started “directing is fun and gives lots of satisfaction, but I would like to try something new you know? Maybe acting is a better field for me” you said with a small smile. The woman, seeming satisfied enough with your answers said goodbye to you and let you go back to the others. The premiere itself was good, paparazzi taking photos and your friends being interviewed… you just took in the atmosphere. It felt nice if you stopped to think about it. Everyone was there to see Jenna because they loved her, they loved her performance, and not so secretly you thought about how that would feel if people were there to see you.

As you stood aside talking to occasional people and other random actors, eventually the premiere came to an end. You were all leaving, the actors in front while you and Tim stood back, paparazzi taking pictures of the actors as y’all went by. But then Jenna’s steps faltered, she turned around and walked to where you were at the end of the line, taking your hand as she basically started running to her car “Jenna what the hell-“ you said through giggles as she dragged you to her car, trying to keep balance as you still couldn’t walk on those heels. “We’re leaving together” you looked at her in confusion “…okay?” You looked back at Emma and the others and shrugged, before being pulled into Jenna’s car.

You were great for the dark tinted windows because as soon as the car left Jenna sat on your lap, straddling you as she started kissing you deeply. Hands cupping your cheeks and yours went to her waist, “you looked so pretty tonight,” she said in in between kisses and deep breaths “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you” she said and moved to your neck, where she licked, sucked and bit down on your skin, making a soft moan escape your lips. “I can’t get enough of you” she said, you loved this side of her, when she gets touchy and flirty and wanting to make you hers… you love that. Eventually the two of you arrived home, luckily to your apartment as you lived alone, and you made it to the bedroom between kisses, Jenna wanted so bad to get rid of your dress, but she waited for your consent, as the two of you had never done this together.

Suddenly, you pulled back from her “Jen… I’m ready” you told her while trying to catch your breath. Jenna smiled brightly and the both of you discarded of your dresses and made love into the night for the first time, together.

A/N: next chapter will probably contain a lot of angst so grab the popcorn and get ready!

Tags: @idkjustliving2 @tundra1029 @engenelxver @rainbow-love4ever @gimaximoff @fashromanmaximoff @wol-fica @lum13 @eviekensington @wifeyjennaortega @i984 @otherstainedrose @rockwyn @jujuu23

[giuli328]

Agnosis | Eddie Munson Fanfiction

chapter one: welcome to the jungle

wc: 969

synopsis & masterlist here

next chapter

————————————————————————

Eddie finally unpacked his last box. It only took him about two months, and if he was being honest, the only reason he finally did it was to find the Paranoid cassette tape that was hidden at the bottom of the box.

He was still finding it difficult to actually believe that Paige Warner got him a record deal with WR Music along with a room in her LA apartment. Maybe it was because he hadn't actually signed the deal yet. The contract was sitting on his nightstand under a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Coke. The thing was, once he signed it, he'd be in. And that meant he'd have deadlines to make and a very public reputation. His reputation that used to be "small town freak who worshiped the devil and followed in his criminal father's footsteps". The Munson name felt like a curse to him. Even though no one here thought of him that way, he couldn't help but feel like an imposter.

In the two months he'd been here, he'd been to the venues on the Sunset Strip so many times that they knew him there. He wouldn't admit it, but it made him feel so cool whenever they'd acknowledge him by name. He wondered if this is what his favorite rockstars felt whenever they were in the area. He daydreamed about signing autographs and performing on stage. The only playing he did while he was here was writing and practicing in his room. He missed Corroded Coffin and playing Wednesdays at The Hideout, but he'd be lying if he said he wished he was back in Hawkins. In Los Angeles, he was somebody. He felt like he belonged there, even if his own self doubt was trying to convince him that he didn't.

"Hey Eddie." the bartender at The Roxy greets him.

"Hey, who's playing tonight?" Eddie asks.

"The headliner's new tonight. A band called Agnosis. Their sound is like Fleetwood Mac but slightly heavier. They're rock, not metal though, sorry kid." the bartender chuckles.

"That's alright. I'll do that myself up there one day." he chuckles.

Eddie orders a drink and finds a spot to watch the show. As the stage hands set up and the lighting turns into purely stage lighting, the crowd begins to fill up. There's a makeshift band logo on the drums that reads the band name.

"What does Agnosis even mean?" Eddie thinks to himself.

Suddenly the band starts playing. The crowd begins to cheer as the drums come in first, then guitar, and finally out comes the lead singer with a big entrance. Eddie takes note of the crowd's reaction when she comes out. They beam at her and he can tell that she has stardom written all over her. He also happens to think she's really pretty. As her eyes scan the crowd, he almost blushes when she looks in his direction.

As the band plays through their set, Eddie could almost swear that she sings directly at him a few times, he even catches her smiling at him from time to time. Or maybe it's just the fact that it's so crowded and Eddie hasn't been able to focus on anything but her for the past twenty minutes. He'd rather it be the first option though.

After their set, Eddie can't seem to get her out of his head, it's like her voice and person is permanently etched into his brain. So much so that he practically thinks he's hallucinating when he hears the familiar voice order a drink right next to him. He turns slowly to look at her, as if she'll disappear if he looks too quickly, and his mouth falls slightly agape when his eyes confirm that it is in fact, her. Suddenly he's nervous. He doesn't know if he should even say anything to her, but he knows he'll regret it if he doesn't. He'll also regret it if he comes off sounding like a total loser, but he thinks maybe he'd regret that a bit less.

"Hey" he blurts out with a smile.

"Hi" she looks back at him with a small smile and then looks back at her drink being made.

There's a little bit of silence as Eddie plans what he wants to say. He settles on "great show". He figures the less words he uses, the less likely he'll stumble over them.

She looks at him again and smiles. "Thats surprising. Usually there's a superiority complex there that prevents metalheads from admitting to enjoying anything but metal" she jokes.

Eddie laughs. "Oh I definitely do find metal superior to all. But there wouldn't be metal without rock. So you know, thank you."

She chuckles. "I highly doubt that I personally have absolutely anything to do with the pioneering of metal, since it was around before I even started playing. But I'll take it. You're welcome."

Eddie smiles at her warmly, enjoying the playful energy going on between them, and feeling a lot more comfortable with her than he thought he'd be.

"So if not just metal, what else?" she asks.

"Actually, my mom was the one that made me a music lover in the first place. And uh...she raised me on chicago blues, country, bluegrass, and rock. I still listen to her old Muddy Waters tapes sometimes, when I miss her." Eddie says.

She realizes by the end of his answer, that his mom passed, and her face becomes more sympathetic. "I'm sorry" she says softly.

"It's alright. I was six when it happened so uh...you know, time heals all wounds or whatever" he smiles reassuringly.

The bartender finally hands her the drink she ordered and she stands up. "What's your name?" she asks.

"Eddie. What's yours?" he says.

"Y/N" she answers.

[dearstvckyx]

3000 miles away | LH43, EE73, DD25, ME94, LF63, JT15, NW31, MS11, AF19 x Platonic!Black OC!Nevaeh Monroe

a/n: I didn’t mean for this to be so long 😭 Also this is set before some of them go to the NHl. Also 2: Pretend that Los Angeles to Ann is 3000 miles from each other.

Nevaeh gazed out her bedroom window staring at the California sunset, missing the snowflakes and fireplace warmth of Michigan. She longed to be back with her friends, especially Luke, who had been her childhood friend.

As she scrolled through her phone, memories flooded her mind. She and Luke had grown up together, and his hockey teammates had become her own friends. They'd have sleepovers, skated together, played in the snow, and the boys would go to Nevaeh with girl issues.

But now, she was stuck in California, feeling homesick and alone. She sent Luke a message: "Hey, I'm missing you and Michigan so much. Can we Facetime tonight?"

The response came quickly: "Aww, Nevaeh! I'm missing you too! We can Facetime tonight after practice. Can't wait to catch up!"

Nevaeh's heart skipped a beat. Maybe this winter break wouldn't be so bad after all.

Nevaeh's eyes wandered, lost in the California haze. She yearned to escape the sun-kissed streets, craving the crisp air and gray skies of home. She stood there on the half empty dock thinking of running away, back to the place she dreams of being in. If only it wasn’t 3000 miles away.

Feeling restless, she thought back to Michigan's stormy weather, the way the wind would whip through her hair as she walked down State Street. Those were the days she felt truly alive.

The present seemed dull and gray in comparison. She missed the warmth of her friends hugs, the way they tease convinced her to stop studying and to go out with them. Most of all, she missed the sense of belonging that came with being surrounded by friends who knew her best.

As she gazed out at the sunset reflecting into the ocean, a pang of sadness struck her heart. She wasn't okay. She was lost in a sea of unfamiliarity, 3000 miles from her home.

Nevaeh redialed Ethan’s number, for the 6th time, hoping he'd answer. She remembered his "Silent mode" joke and smiled, thinking about their late-night conversations on her roof top.

As she waited, she gazed out at the California night sky, feeling like a stranger in this moonlit world. She longed for Michigan's starry skies and snowflakes falling.

Finally, Ethan answered, his sleepy voice a brightness to her dark homesick heart. "Hey, what's up?" he mumbled.

"Just wanted to hear about your day," Nevaeh said softly. As they talked, the distance between them seemed to shrink, but she knew a piece of her heart would always remain in Michigan.

Listening to Nevaeh, Dylan grows concerned as she mention being lonely and homesick "I’ve been dreamjng of a place called home, Dyl." She felt like she was drowning in her birth state, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, beside her father, her step siblings, and the endless sunshine.

She thought back to the nights them and the crew would run together, laughing and chasing the stormy weather. But now, the gray skies of Michigan seemed like a distant memory.

"I don’t feel okay, Dylan" she whispered to him over the phone, feeling the weight of her decision to leave her father and go back home to her true family, her friends. She missed the way they would take turns guiding her to skate, and the way the wind would whip through her hair when Luke’s older brother Quinn would drive their boat on the summer lake.

And as she gazed out at Los Angeles skyline, she felt like she was losing herself. The distance between them and her seemed to grow with each passing day, and she wondered if this feeling would end.

As she laid in her bed, she thought of the crew at the rink, their rugged faces and loud chirping becoming a familiar noise to her. She'd grown up with their laughter, their teasing, and their competitive banter.

But now, as she laid alone, she felt like an outsider. Michigan was a 3,000 mile drive away and the next plane leaves in 3 days, but Nevaeh wishes she could be there in an instant, like Dorothy.

If only, only, she could go back for a day, to see those familiar faces that she calls her brothers. But it was too far, and she knew she couldn't won’t make it home in time before they have to go back to school.

Nevaeh opens up a group chat titled, “The Wolves”, a play on their college team name. She writes a long text, saying, “Hey boys, it's been too long. I'm stuck here in this crazy, busy city, feeling like I'm a millions miles away from everything that's real. I miss the stormy weather, I miss our late nights at the lake, and I miss the way you all would drag me out…. But most importantly I miss you all. This place just ain't the same as Michigan nor are the people. It feels like forever since we've been together. I'm not okay. 3000 miles away, wishing we were all together. Talk to you guys later <3 - Nevaeh”

Nevaeh wakes up to the yellow California sun shining in her eyes. She lays there for a second before hearing her phone going off continuously. As she grabs her phone, she notices all the messages from the group chat, and she reads every response.

E: We miss you as well Nevs!!!

Dyl: There’s always FaceTime or Skype

Mack: Yeah, this place isn't the same without you. We need you back here

Luca: Adams growing annoying, we need you to shut him up

Adam: Screw off Luca. But Nevs if you’re feeling homesick we can always book you the flight back.

Jay: Or we could fly to you!

Noah: We’ll get the crew together back together as soon as you’re home!

Marks: We love Nevaeh, you could always call one of us

And as Nevaeh gets ready to respond and message chat pops down and the name reads, LuLu, Nevaeh instantly opens her and Luke’s Messages.

LuLu

Hey, what's going on?

You're really not okay?

Nevs

I’m okay, Lu. Just

been homesick bad.

LuLu

I’m always here for you,

we all are.

Nevs

I know Luke, I’ll

see you all soon. 💛

After texting her childhood best friend Nevaeh realizes, everything is not so bad. That they were right, They’ll all be together soon and going back to their old ways, Nevaeh just can’t wait

[artdecodude]

J&J Auto. Miraculously still around. An under-appreciated piece of Los Angeles’ massive collection of Art Deco. 1549 West Adam’s Boulevard in the (drum roll) West Adams part of LA. #ArtDeco #LosAngeles #WestAdams …and since I had two photo slots left, I tacked on my photos of tonight’s epic sunset that everyone else has photos of, including that creepy sunset rainbow 🌈.

Edited · 19m

[orphika]

casting couches and pills are as certain to kill as the Hollywood Hills are to burn

The weirdest part, in the end, was driving up here separately; Christine II tailing the sleek Bentley up-up-up and around in a low spiral from Beechwood Canyon, through the scrub and the dust of the Hills, funeral slow and almost stately as they came to a halt, a few minutes before midnight.

Clunk-click. Door. Crunch, crunch. Boots on dry earth. Creak, thunk, and a whisper of leather as Orpheus settled himself on the hood of his car and - didn't sigh. A sigh would be habitual, but not involuntary; something reflexive that came with the illusion of life, and right here, right now, he couldn't be fucked with pretending. She'd made this face and she deserved to see it as it really was: gaunt and hollow, not unhandsome but unheimlich somehow, the face of a dead man or a man who wished he was dead and you with him. He wasn't even wearing the sunglasses.

Besides, who'd want to waste this view?

Los Angeles glowed. Deep, rich, all-night orange, a corona around the spires downtown and the maze of lower buildings closer to, an artificial never-ever-sunset under a rich indigo sky. It even smelled like embers: that burnt, sharp smell of chemical fire, close enough to taint the air, far enough that it didn't turn a stomach.

Not that either of them got sick, but - Beetlejuice had never liked it here. The constant bitching about the smell, the dry heat, the number of assholes she'd just had to put in their place. Everything about Los Angeles aggravated her. Everything aggravated her. But LA in summer seemed to go above and beyond.

To be fair, the smell wasn't his favourite. As she popped Christine's door, Orpheus plucked a couple of Djarum Golds - why the fuck not, why not tonight? - from his jacket, perched them both in his mouth, and lit up, passing one to Beetlejuice without waiting to be asked.

[ @duskbornbitchqueen ]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Bezzle excerpt (Part VI)

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

It's launch-week for my new novel The Bezzle, a high-tech, revenge-soaked crime thriller in which my intrepid forensic accountant Martin Hench must pit his wits against unbelievably evil (and sadly true-to-life) prison-tech grifters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

As part of the launch, I'm serializing part of Chapter 14, a side-plot about music royalty theft and the (again, sadly true-to-life) corruption of the LA Sheriffs Deputies, who are organized into criminal gangs that murder, run drugs and intimidate with impunity:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/deputy-gangs-cancer-los-angeles-county-sheriffs-department-scathing-re-rcna73367

Today marks the sixth and final installment of the serial, but you can hear me read more of the book. Just show up at one of the stops on my book tour! Tomorrow (Feb 24) in LA, I'm appearing on Saturday evening with AdamC onover at Vroman's:

https://www.vromansbookstore.com/Cory-Doctorow-discusses-The-Bezzle&lt;

And then on Monday I'll be in Seattle at Third Place Books with Neal Stephenson:

https://www.thirdplacebooks.com/event/cory-doctorow

From there, I'm off to Portland, Phoenix, Tucson and points further:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

Here's part one of the serial:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

Part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#copyright-termination

Part three:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#lawyer-up

Part four:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#poacher-turned-keeper

Part five:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#acab

And now, the thrilling conclusion!

Benedetto was outraged by my face and swore he’d sue the Sheriff’s Department on my behalf. He got even angrier when I got stopped again, the following week, as I was leaving my concussion checkup at the Kaiser hospital on Sunset by a sheriff’s deputy who had me pull over in front of the big Scientology building. This deputy was a little bantam rooster of a fellow, with a shiny bald head and mirror shades and no neck. He strutted up to my car, got me out of it, ran my ID, and frisked me. “Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?” he said. He had that cop knack for making “sir” sound like “motherfucker.”

“No, sir,” I said, trying it out myself.

He didn’t like that and leaned in close enough for me to smell his aftershave and the scented sunscreen on his bare scalp.

“I stopped you, sir, because you were using your phone while driving.”

I must have looked surprised.

“I personally saw you tapping at your phone screen. That is a misdemeanor, sir. Reckless driving.”

He stopped as if waiting for me to respond. I made myself go mild. “Sir, I did not use my phone.”

He was waiting for that. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. “Are you telling me I didn’t see what I saw?”

Mild, Marty, mild. “I don’t know what you saw, sir, but I didn’t use my phone.”

He rocked back and tilted his head. Patients went by with crutches and walkers. Nurses and doctors passed in scrubs. Scientologists scurried in and out of their gigantic temple. A fruit cart man labored past us.

“Well, sir, this should be simple enough to resolve.” He reached for his belt and pulled out a generic ruggedized cop-­rectangle of gear, and unspooled a multiheaded cable from its side. He leaned into the rental and retrieved my phone, and squinted at its I/O port, then attached the cable to my phone. The rugged rectangle beeped. “I’m gathering forensics on your mobile device, sir,” he said.

I’d figured that out already. My phone—­like yours and ­everyone else’s—­was a trove of my most intimate information, a record of all the places I’d been and people I’d spoken to and all the things I’d said to them. It was full of photos and passwords and client files and voice memos. It was more information than any judge would have granted a warrant for on a reckless-­driving rap.

The little man smirked as he held my phone and his gadget. I stayed mild as milk. I was running full-­device encryption. I’m no computer security expert, but I spend a lot of time around them, and they’d been insistent on this point, and had made reference to this very scenario in describing why I would bother to dig around my phone’s settings to turn this on.

God, my face hurt. I didn’t know how long the gadget was supposed to take, but from the cop’s increasing impatience, I could tell it was going long.

Beep. The cop shaded the gadget’s little screen from the punishing LA sun with one hand and peered at it.

“Sir, I need you to unlock this device, please.”

My face hurt. Be mild, Marty. “I invoke my right to counsel,” I said.

He pursed his lips. “Sir, if you would please enter your unlock code, we can verify whether your device is in use and we can both be on our way.”

“I invoke my right to remain silent.” I said it straight into his bodycam.

He sighed and looked irritated. I had known Benedetto for so long that I had once had to dial his number from a landline. I’d long ago memorized his office’s number, 1–­800-­LAWER4U. He’d bought it early, back before 800 numbers got expensive, and he’d had plenty of offers for it. He’d kept it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/23/gazeteer/#fin

[jetlagupdates]

Sam tweeted about the S7 premiere tonight!

[Image ID: Tweets by Sam (from Wendover) @/wendoverpro. They read:

"LA Jet Laggers! Can't wait to see you all tonight!

For those who were not able to get a ticket, we will be doing a standby line to fill any seats left open. Details below...

We do expect some seats to open up, but it is very likely that we will not be able to accommodate everyone so if you decide to come, be sure you're prepared for the possibility of disappointment.

The event starts at 7:30, so we will likely start letting the standby line in right around then. Look for signs at: Harmony Gold Preview House

7655 Sunset Blvd

Los Angeles, CA 90046"

End ID]

[oldtvlover]

So, tonight DVD time with Shakedown on the Sunset Trip from 1988. Cast: Perry King - Sgt. Charles Stoker Season Hubley - Officer Audre Davis Joan van Ark - Brenda Allen Vincent Baggetta - Sgt. Fuller David Graf - Officer Jack Ruggles Joan McMurtrey - Betty Stoker (Lt. Marsh from S&S) Charles Siebert - Sgt. Gerber and many more 

Story: Based on a true story, this movie perfectly captures an era gone by and transforms a story of corruption into a riveting drama. On the infamous Sunset Strip, an agressive vice cop's pursuit of a notorious Hollywood madam stirs up a deadly hornet's nest of political scandal. Los Angeles in the 1940s - a time when everybody had something to sell and a place where every dimly lit street seemed to hide a secret. Sgt. Charles Stoker sees the takedown of the most prominent madam on the strip as his fast track up the chain of command. With the help of his partner and love interest, Stoker catches the Queen of the Strip red-handed. However, he soon learns her political connections make her nearly untouchable. Ignoring the risks to his career - and his life - Stoker pushes harder for evidence to shut down the prostitution ring, until he realizes that his obsession may have gone too far. (taken from my DVD cover) Thoughts: An obsessed man to get the lady, yet he was ordered to it. Though Charles is separated from his wife, he still seeks her advice and time, especially for his sons and a good colleague, Jack. Betty knows about his affair, yet she only has one wish for him: that he's not a cop. Throughout this whole trial it goes up and down for Stoker, and he certainly feels betrayed by his love interest but he can answer his wife's request. This movie shows an era where all was possible, and to save many bad one good has to go. Unfortunately.

Old times are always fascinating. Well, a cop after a woman who has all in her hands. There was only one end possible.