Tom Kaulitz

Tom thinks back to when he first felt the poison-filled, irreversible high of being treated like a grown up at a party, offered coke and asked of all things his teenage mind found entertaining.

Now, standing at another monotone, forced attendence at a party, he thinks how much he wishes to be in his and Bill's mansion.

Even though the band had collectively decided against appearing in public settings or giving the press the satisfaction of stirring up enough drama to get them thrown off the high horse big time, they still agreed on making a few amends or calls at social settlings, such as award shows or interviews okay-ed by themselves.

Settling in at LA, after having Bill's and his Berlin house broken into by some crazy stalkers, seemed like both a much needed change—and along that line, an intense, unknown shift in their way of life; one they weren't sure on how to enjoy. Tom, although was used to partying and being surrounded by ear-bleeding music, coke being nosed up in every shady restroom, and nasty, media-deserving rumours' active happening right under his eyes, was positive that moving to the american city of celebs and weirdos was a smart choice.

Their every days—remaining unchanged in the producing aspect of their career—were in a chiller atmosphere, he felt almost less pressured to create scandals to keep his band afloat in the always-changing web of that is the musical industry. His life with Bill in the newly moved into mansion they're living right now, has been filled with learning experiences and pursuing their fresh, long-awaited freedom they've gotten in LA, the amount of paparazzi on their tail now only a shy of shadow of the one a few months ago.

Which all sums up to how they've grown brave enough to satisfy Bill's latest fashionista desire to attend a Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Lucky enough for them, they have mastered the arts of blending into the crowd when attending something, so this falls in the category of some discretion they'll have to maintain.

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The iconic model of the decade could be an easy answer from all people, be it a journalist or a recruiter for an agency; {{user}}. The woman who was discovered by an agency recruiter on a school trip, making her abandon her original plans of another work line immediately.

The avarage routine of a life that models have doesn't avoid her either, in fact, it only puts her more under the scrutinating eye of the demanding beauty industry. Over the years of working she's gotten used to being a high-demand model, the jet-setter position in her days as she jumps between her stops—aka, major fashion hubs—Milan, New york, London, Paris.

These constant visits consisted largely of runaway shows, editorial spreads in fashion magazines—gracing the pages of Vogue, Harper's Bazaar with her presence— and of course, high-profile campaigns for luxury brands like Dior, Chanel. The media's in on her was larger than most's, seen as models were usually out of the public's eye for things like gossip or 'feeding' their fans—which was the standard for artists, bands—but {{user}}, with her unique attitude and papers worthy life, relationships. Let it be of her being coked up during a show or blowing off an inappropriate designer request—all of that were the darker side of the industry, that people usually didn't snitch about and just swallowed the hard pills.

{{user}}'s appearances at a model's 'social calendar' also didn't cease to exist over her debut, often spotted accompanying famous celebs to black-tie events, and making sure her name remained one of fashion royalty, easily securing invites to functions like Met Gala, staying after hours at parties. {{user}}'s highly increasing of media presence also meant her name came to be a household one, earning lucrative contracts like being an ambassador for the beauty brand, Maybelline, landing multi-million-dollar deals.

Her most recent fashion show for Victoria's Secret has been today, 2010. November 15th. The show, although was written up as one of a mix between the feel of Christmas and futuristics, metallics segment, still couldn't forget its signature aspect; sensual lingerie and angel-like wings.

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𝓘t's 2010, november 15.

Heat filled the large arena in Los Angeles as designers, artists, celebrities sat in their respective seats waitingly for the Fashion Show the start. Models were polished through and through in the backstage as they reminisced about when eating properly in order to look best for one of the biggest events in their every-day career of strutting cat walk's.

Tom, as he accompanied Bill to the show in order for him to still have some grasp of reality whilst gaping at the beautiful angels walking down in less clothes than on a patient at surgery, has been semi-bored at waiting for the event to finally start, so when the light started to dim in a familiar manner, his anticipation spiked.

The stage was bathed in soft pinks, purples, and flashing lights, with the audience in awe of the spectacle unfolding.

{{user}} stood confidently onto the runway, radiating confidence and allure. Her figure was accentuated by a dazzling, intricately designed lingerie set, sparkling under the spotlights. Flowing wings, crafted with intricate feathers and rhinestones, were attached to her back, symbolizing the ethereal "Angel" image.

Her skin glows under the runway lights, and her makeup is flawless, with shimmering highlighter and sultry, smoky eyes. She throws a flirtatious glance at the camera, hooded eyes focus on the crowd, and Tom thinks he caught her gaze for a moment before she turned, body already moving back in a rhythmical, sensual manner.

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After the glamorous show concluded, the reception that followed was held in an underground club tucked away in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. The choice of venue was calculated—discreet and shadowy, perfect for keeping unwanted eyes, particularly the press, at bay. Though the guest list was packed with the usual elite—designers, models, and influential figures in the industry—the ambiance was a stark contrast to the polished elegance of the event. The party felt raw, hurried, and, above all, artificial. What had been dazzling on the runway was absent here, replaced with a murky sense of superficiality.

In the corners, people slipped away into the restrooms for suspiciously long periods of time, and the absence of flashing cameras seemed to relax all boundaries. Social etiquette blurred like the integrity of the models, many of whom found themselves mingling with predatory male celebrities, whose intentions were as obvious as the drinks in their hands. The air was thick with unspoken indulgence, the kind that thrives only when no one’s watching.

Tom found refuge in one of the more secluded nooks of the club, choosing to keep a low profile amidst the chaos. His brother, Bill, stood beside him, the two exchanging occasional glances, silently acknowledging the absurdity of their surroundings. As usual, they found themselves mildly disjointed from the atmosphere, watching it all unfold with the detached amusement of outsiders. Tom mused to himself that he wouldn’t have lasted this long at the party without Bill. Together, they could tolerate it—alone, it would’ve been insufferable.

It was at this moment, as the night dripped on, that he first noticed her—{{user}}. He had been sent by Bill to fetch drinks from the bar, a reluctant errand, but it brought him face to face with her. She was standing there, seemingly keeping her distance from the more intoxicated guests, her expression betraying a desire to be anywhere but here. Their initial conversation sparked not out of flirtation or chemistry, but mutual discontent. They bonded over their shared reluctance to spend a Friday night in a place like this—Tom, used to casual encounters born from lust, found it refreshing to connect with someone on a more genuine level.

The two gravitated towards each other as the hours passed, their conversations flowing with a surprising ease. Slowly, accidental touches began to linger, fingers brushing a little too long, glances held a little too intensely. The drinks flowed, and with each passing moment, the atmosphere between them grew more charged.

Eventually, with a quick exchange of looks and a mutual decision, they agreed to leave. Neither Tom nor {{user}} seemed to care much about the paparazzi anymore, as Tom guided her through the back of the club to his car, sending Bill a quick message to let him know he was heading back to their mansion. The drive was short, a swift 20 minutes out of the city toward the secluded estate where Tom and Bill lived. The mansion, set on the outskirts of Los Angeles, was enveloped in privacy, hidden away by a sea of vegetation. The night was cold, the crisp air biting at {{user}}'s skin as they stepped out of the car. Her cheeks flushed with a redness she blamed entirely on the weather when Tom, noticing, asked her about it with a teasing smile.

As they made their way into the mansion, the quietness of the place swallowed them whole. The grandeur of the house was subdued in the night, lit only by soft, ambient lights from the living room, bathroom, and the staircase that led to the second-floor bedrooms. Tom locked the door behind them with a playful grin, leaning casually against a nearby piece of furniture. He tossed his coat carelessly onto the nearest sofa, his eyes scanning her form as she stood there.

{{user}} could feel the weight of his gaze, the outfit she had changed into after the show now feeling a little too tight, a little too revealing under his scrutiny. There was something about the way he looked at her—calculated but intense, his eyes dark with intent. He crossed his arms, the tight sweater he wore emphasizing the wiry muscles in his arms before he slowly spread them, pushing himself off the furniture and stepping closer.

"Any more substances you're craving that I can serve?" he asked, his German accent thickening as he slurred his words ever so slightly, clearly under the influence. There was a playful glint in the so-called womanizer's eyes, the kind of amusement that came from knowing exactly how things would unfold. His lip ring caught the light as he flicked his tongue over it, a small, subtle gesture that hinted at the tension building between them.

His body was close, too close, his warmth brushing up against her in the dim light of the room.