#and throw them in a pool of men that clearly aren’t interested in black women

[luhvey-duhvey]

I need to speak on this because it’s happened far too many times and seems to be a recurring pattern with Fusebox.

It’s really shameful and disheartening to see how often Fusebox puts black women characters into couples with people that don’t actually like them, and proceeds to villainize them in the eyes of MC/other characters in the game.

We’ve seen it in S2 with Hope being loyal to Noah then getting disrespected by him when he confessed to MC in the end.

We’ve seen it with Grace in S6, sticking with Ozzy although he’s disrespected her and clearly wasted her time by staying with her when he was pining for MC all along. And even when he does tell her he’s not interested anymore, she does everything in her power to “win him over” instead of allowing her to rightfully look elsewhere for love.

And if you’re going the Jin route in S8, it happens with Luna. Jin doesn’t want her but he sticks around to spare her feelings. She embarrasses herself trying to win him over only to get booted off the show.

Next, they love to turn them into the “mean ones” by getting upset with MC/defending their relationship when romance (often initiated by the one they’re coupled up with) strikes.

Then they’re the enemy and everyone is waiting for them to be voted out of their game.

Yeah, sure, they’re just characters. It’s just a game. But it blows my mind, especially seeing this as a black player, that time and time again they’ve done this with the black women characters in the exact SAME way:

1. Couple with someone that’s not interested

2. argue/be a jerk to MC/refuse to take hints that their love interest doesn’t like them

3. do acrobatics to win said love interest over

4. get heartbroken, kicked off

If you’re going to put black women in your show, is it too much to ask them to be respected? To be deserving of a happy ending too? Reflect on how you’ve been representing black women, Fusebox.

Then do better.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 09

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mentions of violence

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

   - It’s about Mr. Williams.

Sebastian’s face creased up, the lines that were rather faint in his skin becoming more prominent as his cerulean eyes lowered to look at the Y/N who was starting to curl up like a silkworm. That was the least of names he wanted to hear, specially the least of names he wanted to hear coming from her lips. The name itself seemed to taint her lips and it didn’t take long for Y/N to realise the atmosphere had shifted into uncharted territory. Sebastian wouldn’t hurt her, right? He had never given her any excuses for her to believe he would hurt her, however the dislike for Mr. Williams was certainly present. 

  - What about Mr. Williams, Y/N? - he spoke in a low tenor, menacing enough to make her feel short.

  - I was just speaking with Gwen ... - Y/N was lying through her teeth, hoping Sebastian wouldn’t ask a lot of questions if she added the heiress’ name to the narrative. He, however, didn’t seem to lower down his defence stance. - You’re not gonna dispose of him, are you?

  - I don’t think I owe you any explanation about my business. Know your place, Y/N. - the words made her heart clench as the once rather warm and comfortable environment seemed to freeze, and Y/N was no longer comfortable. Why would she ask him about his business? Yet, on the other hand why shouldn’t she? She was one of his employees too. 

Y/N’s glance migrated away from him to look at her own hands which were gripping the railings of the balcony. It hadn’t been hard for her notice that he didn’t really like people messing into his business, however, she wasn’t expecting to having been shot down this quickly. It wasn’t like Y/N was a big fan of Thompson Williams, she was just paying him a favour, after all everyone is worth a second shot and he looked scared enough and worried to deserve one. With a shaky breathe, she returned to look at him, observing that the tenseness had not left his face, however it looked like a facade, almost like a mask and she wondered what he hid behind it. 

Without speaking another word, frightful for more hurtful words coming from him, she turned around, feet moving to point towards the door which she walked to, opening it and leaving Sebastian’s suite. So much for the favour mentioned by the sleazy man. Why would he hold any favour towards her when she was a bright reminder that he was fated towards a marriage he didn’t pick? 

Almost like snapped of a daze, Sebastian blinked quite a few times, lingering on the place she had been on before he took off to the hall expecting her not to be fast enough to have already returned to her bedroom. Much to his dismay, the halls of the hotel were empty with only sounds of soft snoring coming from the other bedrooms.

    - Fuck. - he sighed, kicking one of the wall heaters in frustration.

    - Sir. - one of the bodyguards made himself known. - Is everything alright, sir?

    - Yes, Elias. - Sebastian had made particularly important to have trusted bodyguards following Y/N and Gwen around, however, Elias was specially responsible by keeping an eye on Y/N. - Make sure Miss Y/N is alright.

The morning came quickly and like a wound, his words were rather sore on her mind and running wild as she sat down on the hotel’s restaurant to have a lavish restaurant with Gwen. Despite the beautiful refined pastries, cakes, and teas being constantly put in front of her, she was much too lost in her thoughts and regrets over even mentioning Williams’ name in front of Sebastian. 

Another employee set a basket of bread in front of the two girls along with endless glasses of various brightly coloured juices which smelled like they were freshly squeezed fruit juice. The breakfast however went by in seconds, maybe due to Y/N’s relentlessness to overthink every single little thing she had done wrong or maybe due to the fact that regarding the nice climate, Gwen was interested in rushing through breakfast and head out to the pool. In all honesty, a nice day by the pool did sound nice, as long as she were able to read whatever she wanted with no one bothering her. 

It wasn’t like Gwen was gonna go do sight seeing which meant Y/N had to do with what she was given and a peaceful day by the pool sounded well enough. They were taken by the bodyguards to the pool and set off shop in the white and bamboo lounge with a VIP sign glued to. Y/N took place in the shadiest place, opening her book, set it on top of her legs and put her earbuds in, getting lost in instrumental soundtracks and beautifully written novels. 

Sebastian woke up much later than the two women, picking his phone to check if there were any business news and much to his dismay, there were several things he’d had to go over. Before returning to his work, he decided to go check on Gwen, mostly because he was certain Y/N was most likely by his fianceé’s side. And by her side she was, as he stepped onto the pool courtyard he found the very innocent and naíve Y/N scantily clad in a bright red swimsuit in Baywatch fashion. Suddenly, his pants felt tighter and his mind was screaming at him not to look at the handmaid when his future wife was even more scantily dressed than her. 

Y/N noticed his presence, pushing her red rimmed sunglasses down a bit to the bridge of her nose to look at him before pushing them back up and raising her book her. She was definitely upset at him and he couldn’t apologise for his behaviour in front of Gwen. 

Sebastian grabbed his phone from his back pocket, dialling a very familiar number before turning his back on the two girls.

   - I’m gonna need a favour. - he mumbled as he walked away to return to his business. 

   - Y/N! - Gwen poked her handmaid’s arm, making her take her earbuds off and eventually ending her peaceful moment. - Look at those guys, they’re are totally checking us out. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, rotating her head ever to slightly look at the men on the other side on the pool. They looked exactly like the same type of guys she had gone to university with and none of them held a candle to Sebastian. Wait. Why was she comparing them to Sebastian? Of course they looked nothing like the mob boss, they weren’t being apparently closed off about their flirting, were significantly younger and ... well ... they did not look like him. But he was engaged and it was clear he was probably still mad at her. Despite that, Y/N was still not in the mood to play wing woman to Gwen.

   - They are definitely staring at you, Gwen. 

   - Aw, what’s that? Are you saving yourself for someone else or something? 

   - I’m just not in the mood. - she sighed. - Besides, they’re just looking for a passing fancy.

   - A forever romantic, aren’t you? C’mon, is there someone I should know about?

   - I don’t think anyone is interested in me like that, Gwen. 

   - C’mon! Don’t you have someone whose touch lingers a little bit after they’ve done so? - yes. God yes, but that someone whose touch lingered around every time they happened. - If you don’t then there’s some guys clearly interested in talking to us. 

  - You can go, Gweny. You clearly want to go. - Sebastian had left a long time ago, hence why Y/N was rallying her up to do so. Yet, mostly so she could leave her alone which after a while she did, walking up in heels to the group of boys who fanned over her like if she were the impersonation of Venus. After a while of being in the shade reading Dangerous Liasons, Y/N decided to return to her room knowing Gwen was about to retire from the pool herself with one of the boys.

Tired, she put a light and soft white coat on and grabbed her bag before heading to the stairs and onto the lift with Elias constantly on her tail. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to security but ever since Sebastian assigned her own bodyguard to follow her around, it just felt odd. However, thankfully, she only had one compared to the crowd of six that followed Gwen around. 

The lift ride seemed endless when you’re tired but in less than two minutes she was back on her floor and on her bedroom. Throwing her bag onto the bed, she removed the coat and sat down on her duvet, eyes scanning her bedroom until she noticed a black velvety box standing in her dresser. 

  - Elias?- she called out and immediately the man had his head popped into the slight opening of her door. - What is that box?

  - It was left there by the staff. - he shrugged and returned to his position of waiting outside her door.

Curiously, Y/N paced to her dresser, looking at the box as if it were an explosive device before her hands brushed against the velvety material of the box. She didn’t know what it was but whatever it was, it was well packaged in a very expensive looking box. Suspiciously, she opened the box where a note in beige coloured paper was standing on top of a velvet bag. She took the paper in her hands, turning it around to see a rushed yet somehow pleasing handwriting. I’m sorry. S.S. x

Sebastian. Her tummy filled with butterflies as she felt the heat creep onto her cheeks. Placing the card on the table, she grabbed the velvet bag which was slightly heavier than expected and once she opened it to check the contents of it, she couldn’t help but smile at what she saw. It was exactly the same as she remembered, in the same beautiful pure white colour with golden accents. She opened the top of the music box and out came the melody she knew too well accompanied with the crystal ballerina and the Paris landscape.

Without much of a thought, she rushed out of her door and to the front of Sebastian’s suite door, knocking on it rather forcefully.

   - Miss Y/N, Mr. Stan isn’t taking any visits right now. - one of his bodyguards rather rudely spoke down to her.

   - I’m sorry, I just really need to speak with him. - she held the music box close to her chest. - Please. 

   - I’m afraid you didn’t hear me correctly. - his hand wrapped around her wrist, pushing her away from the door and into the middle of the hall. - No visits now.

   - Could you please let him know that I want to speak with him. Please. 

   - Listen, Miss Y/N, I see you’re used to experience the same type of privilege as Miss Forrest but you’re an employee and as an employee you schedule appointments and behave like an employee. Are we understood? 

   - Yes. - she looked down, shifting her weight from side to side. 

   - Unhand Miss Y/N this second. - the colour from his face drained as his hand lost its grip on her wrist. She looked up to see a very unhappy Sebastian with his arms crossed across his chest and, like a shy child, tip toed over behind him as he condemned the bodyguard. - You are not to touch Miss Y/N without her permission or I’ll cut your fucking hands off. Do you hear me?

  - Yes, sir. - Y/N was fascinated by how he didn’t need to scream and how he just kept a grip over power unseen to her. Before she could even process what had just happened, Sebastian placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her back to his suite before closing the door behind them. 

  - You should’ve called out for me when you knocked. - his gaze lowered to the music box in her hands. - I see you’ve got my gift. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you last night.

  - This is the most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for me. I can’t believe you remembered. - her fingers traced the pattern on the music box, smiling mindlessly. - Thank you so much, Sebastian. I don’t know ... I don’t even know how to repay the favour. 

    - It’s a gift, angel. You really should stop trying to repay gifts. - his hand grazed over her forearm. The lingering touch, there is was, and she couldn’t help but stare into his cerulean eyes. - I wasn’t in my best behaviour last night and I wanted to apologise. 

Y/N softly smiled, all the worries from last night fading away as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug which took him by surprise. She had put her music box by the side and Sebastian stood there not entirely sure what to do with himself, all he knew is that it felt good to have her in his arms in a way like nothing else ever felt. The hug seemed too short as both of them pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes until the magnetism just became too much for any of them to handle and as if she were bewitched she leaned forward, connecting her lips to his in what felt like the blooming of various emotions she was yet to experience. 

It’s really something.

tag list:​ @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​

[realm-sweet-realm]

Prison Cell, chapter 2

This is a story taking place in an AU where the studio became the sketch dimension before most of the sacrifices were made.  While this AU will have an emphasis on horror, especially in the later chapters, I also want to show the resilience of some of these characters.

---

"Can I be the one to go down there?" Susie asked.

"No," Abby answered firmly. "First we need to decide what we're going down there for. And I'm sorry, but I don't think it's going to be a rescue mission. I don't trust you not to turn it into one. Beyond that, though, whoever it is, it has to be someone at least somewhat nondescript. So, not you- you're pretty well-known, and your size alone is pretty distinctive. And not me, either- there are no other black women in this studio, so there definitely aren't any who are loyalists. And not Henry- he's a wanted man. Any volunteers?"

In the end, Jack was chosen for the first mission. He was fairly forgettable in appearance, and the one of the two people down there who knew him well wouldn't be one to call him out. Of course, the other was Joey Drew, but he was nonetheless the best candidate.

After Jack had been assigned, there was a brief discussion about where to hide Henry, they found someone to replace Norman as the projectionist, and a circuit of people were chosen to keep watch of the elevator at night so that no one would be attacked.

---

The next day, Jack put on the loyalist robes, traded his hat for a mask, and headed down in the elevator. The first lower floor that the elevator stopped at was at the old breakroom. Two men were there, playing pool in uniforms but no masks. It was strange how normal it looked. Jack figured that the masks must have only been for specific uses, including any visits to the upper floors. Hopefully he didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"Hey," he said to them, trying to disguise his voice somewhat, "I have to check on the prisoners. I'm covering for a buddy. But he forgot to tell me where they are. Can you help me?"

One of the men gave him a funny look. There were a thousand things that could have given him away. Maybe all loyalists already knew where the prisoners were kept. "Floor 3B. Take two lefts. You can't miss it."

Jack thanked them and left.

Floor 3B was the second-to-last one, and it opened in a nondescript hallway. Once he’d followed the directions, he got to what looked like an unremarkable row of office doors. They looked like that, but Jack could hear someone crying within them, and could smell human waste. This was, undeniably, the place. Jack tried a few doors and found them to be locked. So, after checking to make sure that there was no one else nearby, he tried talking to the people within them. There were six prisoners in total. One of them was Emma LaMonte. Four of them had been a part of a small insurrection early on. Their stories broke Jack’s heart. One of them, Lacie, had been left with a broken leg that they had done nothing to treat. It had set incorrectly and was now a permeant cause of pain and poor mobility. Another of them, Shawn, had been fed ink. The final prisoner was also a surprise.

“Allison? I thought you were a loyalist.”

“I was, but I wasn’t very good at following the rules. Tom caught me breaking a pretty big one. He doesn’t want me to end up dead. So, he dragged me in here, and told the others that I’d done something less severe. Something that would get me locked up a long time, but not killed. I get treated better than the other prisoners, and Tom comes to visit me and take me around most nights like I’m a free person, but he still doesn’t trust me not to get myself killed. I know it’s only temporary, though.”

“Temporary?”

“Well, Tom says that Joey is working on a way out for all of us. I hope that’s true. But I’ve been in the dark pretty much since the beginning.”

Jack nodded. “I’m real sorry this has happened to you. Can I ask what you were doing? Oh- and do you know where there might be more prisoners?”

“I don’t know about other prisoners. But as for what I was doing- I was visiting the outside without permission. I actually did it several times before I got caught. If you want to do it, the portal is on floor 2B.”

“Okay. Thanks again,” Jack said before leaving.

The portal was not hard to find. A door like any other on floor 2B was in fact marked with the word, “portal.” Someone had left their keys in the door. Jack pocketed the keys and went in.

The inside of the room had, in addition to many typical janitorial supplies, a rack of small vials of dark, nearly-black liquid, a set of post-it notes, and a set of instructions. The instructions read, 

Step 1: write where you want to go on a note and stick it to a door.

Step 2: pour a vial of blood at the base of the door.

Curious as to how specific one had to be and how far the door’s powers extended, Jack wrote “China” on a note and poured out a vial. He opened the door, and on the other side was wilderness. Perhaps this was the very center of China. After being stunned for a moment at being able to see greenery and smell fresh air for the first time in months, Jack realized that, since the portal worked, there was a much better way he could be using it. Giddy, he wrote down his old address and repeated the ritual. The door opened to a closet in his own house. He could hear his dog barking and the voice of one of his kids, and for a moment he considered abandoning the studio and everyone in it.

Then the door shut, and opened again. Jack was roughly pulled through it, back into the supply closet.

“What were you doing!?” a woman yelled at him. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Okay, give me back my keys and don’t tell anyone I forgot them, and I won’t tell anyone that you snuck a trip through the portal. Got it?” she was clearly just as frightened as he was.

“I won’t tell anyone. But could you please just let me have this? Just for ten minutes. Please?”

The woman appeared to mull this over. “Sure. But seriously- you can’t go through there dressed like that. Here, I’ll hold your mask...” the woman reached for his mask. 

Jack backed up against the wall. “Actually, I changed my mind. But don’t worry, I still won’t tell anyone.”

“Wait... you seem familiar...”

Jack opened the door and scrambled to the elevator, not looking back to see if she followed. 

---

“Okay, so the good news is that we know that the insurrectionists are alive,” Abby began after Jack had returned back and composed himself enough to report his findings. “And now we know about the portal. That’s very interesting. The bad news is that the prisoners are being kept in awful conditions, and they’re probably going to suspect anyone who’s wearing the mask in public places from now on. I guess the best thing to do is use someone who looks specifically like someone from down there. So, try to remember how the people down there looked. And thank you, Jack. That was very brave of you.”

Jack nodded and left Abby to her work. Planning an insurrection was difficult, and especially so on top of directing the art department. Shortly after Jack left, there was a knock on her door. It was Susie.

“Susie! Hi! did you get that list I asked for?”

Susie smiled. “Yep. Went to every department. There’s a good dozen or so people who are ready to hit the demon with an ax!”

Abby smiled back. Susie had been a big help to her. “Great! I’ll assign them floors.” hopefully the gambit would pay off. Hopefully they weren’t just throwing good fighters away. The forced blood extraction might have been frightening and violating to the people who received it, of whom there were more than a couple, but who knew when the insurrectionists might need their best fighters? If the demon just dragged them away anyhow, then this wasn’t the best use for them. Of course, being a leader in these times meant making a thousand decisions like that with limited information and hoping that things turned out for the better.

---

Days wore on. The guard system on the elevators had lasted all of a single night. The demon, finding a guard on each floor, had taken to eviscerating one of them. By the time the other guards arrived, the demon was standing over a corpse that appeared nearly inside-out. The demon scurried back to the elevator, and left before anything could be done to him.

The missions went poorly as well. Security had increased after Jack had nearly been found out. While the insurrectionists had managed to map out the lower floors (save for the very basement, which was sealed off), and found out that a great many of the loyalists were sick of a mysterious disease that caused blackened, shiny skin, they were unable to steal keys, free the prisoners, or access the portal again. After two weeks of no progress and three deaths, two of which had been killed after having been found out, Abby called the rebellion off. She felt it was what was best for everyone’s welfare, and since the loyalists had banned wearing masks on the lower floors, going undercover had become immensely more dangerous..

Susie continued to bring people together for meetings. She was not organized and dominant as Abby had been, and her meetings tended to be chaotic. The people were angry and had been emboldened. One night, a man stole a uniform and snuck down to the lowest levels. He killed a man with a knife and injured another before being imprisoned. The next day, Sammy came to the music department and escorted Susie to the basement.

"Where are you taking me?” Susie asked as Sammy clicked the elevator button to bring her to the lower floors.

“Don’t worry. No harm is going to come to you yet. This is something that Joey Drew is explicitly allowing. He knows that he needs to stop this rebellion, so he’s going to use sticks and carrots. And, well, this is the carrot.” Sammy’s face was unreadable.

They went into the room labelled “portal.”

“The first thing that I’ve been asked to do is tell you why all of this is necessary. Susie, your blood can open the portals to the outside. There were only six people in the entire studio with the right blood properties to do that, and your rebellion killed one of them last night.”

Susie nodded. “What I’ve never understood is why you don’t just let everyone out. I mean, you have a portal.”

Sammy took off his shirt, revealing a black growth that had spread across his chest, stomach, and shoulders. “If I spend more than a day or two out there, I will get sick and die. The same is true of everyone who was in the room when the ink machine exploded. Some of us are too deformed to even be allowed through the portal anymore. Joey is looking for a way to cure us so that everyone can be free. And until then, he needs your blood.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s keeping everyone else.”

Sammy cringed. “That’s probably his own selfishness- wanting to maintain his studio the best he can. He’s not exactly as sane as he used to be. But... you’ll find out about that soon enough. For now, Susie, I’m supposed to give you your carrot. We have some money to spend, and I’ve been given permission to take you anywhere in the world you want for the day and send you back with an offering of gifts.”

Susie thought on this. “What if I told you that I wanted my gift to be Norman?”

“You’ll find out about him tonight. He’s a part of the bargaining.”

Susie’s face lit up. “Okay, wonderful!”

The two of them spent a day in Paris together. Afterwards, Sammy sent her back with two first-aid kits. One of them was fully stocked and then some, as it contained much of the contents that had been in the other one. The other they had emptied. Anything from it they couldn’t pack into the first box had been abandoned on the street, and they had filled the box with knives.

“Please promise me that you won’t use these unless absolutely necessary. Joey doesn’t want it to come to war, but if it does, there is a lot he could use against you. The loyalists could poison you with ink, or they could refuse you access to any resources and starve you into compliance. And thankfully, we don’t have guns, but if things ever escalated, we could get them, and you couldn’t. So, please, for own safety, only use these for self-defense.”

“I won’t let anyone know about these. But I'm not sure I can control them. Angry people that feel like they have nothing to lose are... really hard to lead.”

Sammy went quiet.

“Something wrong, Sammy?”

“Well, I told you that we were planning on using sticks and carrots, right? Well, Joey- if I can still call that thing “Joey”- is about to give you your stick. He wants to crush the rebellion with shock and awe. And I’m scared that he’s just going to make everyone angrier.”

Susie didn’t know what to say to that. “It’ll be okay, Sammy.”

“I sure hope so,” he replied, starting to cry.

Finding the portal again was easy- it was right where it had been at the beginning of the day, in some supply closet in some department store. A loyalist checked over what Susie had brought back, but Sammy had made sure that the person to do so would be another sympathizer, so they were let go. They stepped onto the elevator again. “Alright. Time for the stick. I’m supposed to deliver you to the very basement. I’m sorry.”

[fairyshuuu]

The taste of gold 1/2

.summary. You work in one of the most expensive places in the world. The glitz and glamour is a daily, by now. The one thing you don’t expect, is for the boss to take an interest in you. A really obnoxious, annoying interest. .word count.  9.5k .pairing. baekhyun x reader .genre. fluff

part 1.   part 2.   smut.

There’s a certain range of colors that scream rich. Breathe it, kiss it every day before they go to work, the sound of coins hitting the bank. Soft, gentle colors, like champagne, and peach, and gold, that wrap around you and continue the gentle shades of their skin and warm them from within the cells. There’s royal blue, the color that tastes like the deepest part of the sea, the most open part of the soul, and maybe also the most deceitful part. Rosé, and burgundy, and velvet, colors that stick to your tongue and make a home there, drinking you in. They call attention, shout it at the top of their lungs and while you might never wear rich, you’ve seen a lot of it.

You’ve seen it when you walk out of your apartment, gold glitter reflecting off the dark tinted windows of the private limo that waits for some equally dark dressed woman. When you get off the tram and walk to around the corner to see Heaven’s Gate reflect the sunrise off of it’s spotless glass windows, visible from what you can only imagine is every corner of Seoul. When you walk into the over-sized hall through the back door and tug on your uniform, catching your reflection in your golden name tag. When you scoot in next to the two other girls at reception a few minutes before 6, and glance carefully at the heels so high that they cannot be comfortable. The dresses so soft and shimmery that if you were to look too long you might damage your retinas.

Those colors that scream rich. You don’t think you like those colors. Secretly, of course, you long for them at the same time. You long to touch and smell and breathe those colors, those fabrics, those drinks and those people like everyone else. But they’re not meant for you, you think. They wouldn’t match with the blush of your cheeks, the dark under your eyes and certainly not with the snow white color of your soul on a rainy day. Still though, it’s enchanting to watch, like visiting the zoo for the nth time. You know what types of figures will pass the doors, but can’t find it to look away.

The women with smiles of a million won, diamonds draped around their dainty fingers and necks and littered in their hair like they were born with them attached to their skin. The ones with the long champagne dresses, flaunting their elegant slim shapes and giggling while connecting their arms with the date of the evening. The men with suits that look so crisp that they must have never been worn before, those who slide their black cards across the counter with a smile. Before you got a job at Heaven’s gate, you honestly believed that every rich person was terrible. A stereotype, sure, but one taken from reality, you assumed. Most people here though, are polite, magical at their best and at least helpful at their worst.

There are the few rot apples in the bunch, the teenage boys who come in smoking, smile on their soft lips like the entire world revolves around them and maybe it does to an extent. The girls who give sneers when the bellboy drops one of the twenty-eight bags that were pushed into their hands. But these are exceptions, and so you’ve grown to admire the beauty of gold. You admire the confidence of the people who walk into the hall like they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. You get lost in the eyes of the woman who sends you a wink when you give her a deep bow and rush to hold the door open for her and her pristine blood-red heels.

You eat them up like cherry ice cream, because in truth, you don’t know how long this will last and you long to keep a little bit of the glamour locked in your mind, dusted on your fingertips. Heaven’s Gate is the largest and most reputable housing chain in South Korea, and maybe even all of Asia. It’s only affordable for people who have so much money that they could fill a swimming pool with it, of course, but it’s gorgeous, and the people in it are too. How you ever got a job, even a minor one, is still beyond you. If Heaven’s Gate was a cake, she’d be so sweet that you get cavities just looking at it, if she was a person, you’d beg for a single breath in your direction.

As you carefully sip on a cup of coffee in the back room, you sigh. Even this room, one for the staff that no guest will ever see, is grandiose. It’s almost painful, how much money it must cost to exist in the vicinity of something like Heaven’s Gate. The name is no lie. You let your nail run over the marble counters for a second, and glance around the room. The table is a white marble, chairs decorated in gold, the curtains are a delicate creme and the lights are golden chandeliers that create sparkles on your skin. Your damn coffee tastes like it came straight from up in the clouds, for fuck sake. You take a look out of the window, and press your lips tight. The floor-to-ceiling windows give you a view into the small car park that sits behind the complex, displaying the billions of won worth of cars that have their own little paradise.

The car park is also called the Garden of Eden, and even this is no lie. The cars are shrouded in the shadows of the tall, blindingly green trees, and surrounded by millions of flowers that all somehow look too expensive for a normal garden. There’s a little waterfall that runs from farther into the park, and runs past the first line of cars as if the cars themselves need a nice view too. The large white fountain that lights up in gold when evening falls is just visible from the window here. You sigh, and put your cup down, placing it in the dishwasher under the sink. You don’t need to do this since the cleaning crew passes every two hours, but you feel guilty leaving it out to dirty the beautiful counters.

A gentle knock comes on the door, as you look up in slight surprise. Your co worker Bea walks in with a small smile on her cherry lips, and gives you a little nod. She is, much like you are, dressed in a silk top, a soft gold of color, and a deep coal colored pencil skirt. The gold name tag sits proudly on the right side of the uniform, name engraved into it clearly. Her black heels tap against the heated stone floor as she walks over to you and starts making a cup of coffee for herself. “Do you want one?” She asks over her shoulder, to which you gratefully decline. “Ah, is your break almost over?”

“Yeah,” you glance at the clock once, “I still have a minute and fifty-three seconds.” Bea giggles and nods, while you move to the mirror to check your uniform, just to be sure. When you first got it in the mail, you thought a mistake must have been made. Which employer gives their employees a silk blouse? You’d spent the whole of your first day terrified of spilling anything on the fabric. You quickly understood how important impressions here were, from the bellboys to the chefs in the kitchen, everyone looked like they walked straight out of a fairy tale. You wipe your hands on the soft white towel once, and nod. About time to get back to work.

“Oh, Y/N!” Bea suddenly calls, as you turn to look at her. “Are you coming to lunch later? I want to go but I’m not sure if my schedule will allow it.”

You bite your lip. “I wasn’t planning on going, honestly.” You internally let out a long sigh. All of it is a lot, the company lunches. The morning staff gets to go to lunch at three, to make sure all the guests have had their meals before, and talk and drink until about five. All while the afternoon staff is helping the guests. It’s a whole gathering, and that almost every single workday.

“But you can? You’re missing out on an amazing meal paid by the company because you want to?” At her shock, you giggle, and nod.

“I feel guilty letting Heaven’s Gate pay my food.” You admit, glancing at the clock again. Thirty seconds. You might have to cut your exchange with Bea short.

Bea hums, and takes a sip of her coffee as she leans her back against the counter. “I don’t know if it’s true but I actually heard that the employee meals aren’t paid by Heaven’s. I heard it’s straight out of the Boss’ personal bank account.”

Your mouth almost falls open unceremoniously, but you manage to hold it in. Lunch for hundreds of employees, everyday? “That can’t be, right? Why would he do that?”

“He always says in interviews that he wouldn’t be anywhere without his staff. Maybe he’s thankful.” You look away from the pretty girl to stare at the floor, in shock. If that’s true, the Boss would be even more sickly rich than you thought. But no, that’s crazy. No one can be that stupidly rich. Right?

You’re sure everyone is losing their shit. You’re losing your shit along with them. Your heart beats about seventy times a minute too fast, and your throat is as dry as the Sahara desert. Something about seeing the more experienced employees freak out, made every string in you snap. The boss has never been in Seoul for longer than a week since you started at the company, which means that you’ve never had to interact with him before. Haerin, the head receptionist, touches up her lipstick quickly, before sliding her chair back in place, and presses a hand to her chest. Bea looks about ready to throw up, and you’re sure you must be icy white from stress, or as red as a strawberry.

“Don’t worry, girls.” Haerin smiles as she looks over at you two, but you can see the nerves swim in her eyes too. “The Boss is a nice man, and you probably won’t even have to say anything. Just don’t stare too hard at him with your love-hearts, Bea.” Bea chuckles at the comment, and send the older girl a little glare. At the comfortable banter, you feel yourself relax a little. You’ve been around people who could buy your life more times than you can count. This is worse though. This man is your employer, and he could choose to fire you right on the spot, if he so pleased. No one apparently expected him to pass by today, since he was in Paris ‘till yesterday, but Haerin’s wide-eyed announcement came before you had time to process.

You’re silenced when a car pulls up in front of the entrance, a white Porsche with fire-red tires. Two people of staff rush over to open the doors of the car, and help the people out. The woman that slips out of the passenger side is tall, a model no doubt, and flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder with a gentle smile of her delicately manicured face. She wears a dress as blue as the water in the Bahamas, to match her eyes. The man that slips from the driver side hands his keys to the staff, and says something with a blinding smile, before walking over to hold out his arm to the woman. The man is taller than her, and has beautiful honey colored skin, and black hair. His tie matches her dress. They both make it up the stairs to the entrance, million dollar smiles on both of their faces. The flashes of paparazzi are blinding.

When you glance at your co workers, they seem to relax slightly. Haerin puts on her beautiful welcoming smile, and bows to greet the guests. It’s not the Boss, but still your heart pitter patters almost right out of your chest. Even quicker than usual, you think, Haerin has the room key in her hands and offers it with a smile, receiving the black card of the man in return. She hands it to Bea, who passes it to you, for a quick scan. You then hand it back, and glance back at the gorgeous couple. You might never stop getting starstruck while working here. When the payment confirms, Haerin sends them off with the last bit of info, Bea handing them the flyer carefully. The man gives a grateful nod to each of you, before leading the elegant woman to the elevators.

You don’t get time to process, because a loud growling engine makes a halt in front of the entrance just as the white Porsche is driven off. This time though, the paparazzi are snapping so many pictures that the entire evening sky is light up with white. You straighten your back to look, but all you see is the flashes of cameras left and right. You can only imagine him getting out, sending a charming smile at the cameras, and walking up the stairs confidently. The security turns toward the entrance as well, making sure to keep any paparazzi out. They do this anyway, but this time it seems like it might be necessary. The glass rotating door soon reveals a person, bathing his shape in a glow from the flashes.

When he walks through the door, your eyes have trouble processing. You’ve never seen a person ooze so much confidence. Byun Baekhyun. Ceo of Heaven’s Gate, along many, many other businesses. Only 27, and owns 13 companies, each worth millions, along with some of the most expensive properties on earth. You don’t know how high he is on the richest people list, but the top ten would definitely not surprise you. Baekhyun casually strolls over to the reception smiling like he owns the place, because he quite literally does, and leans his elbows on the pristine pink marble.

You can’t help but stare. His gorgeous face is lined by a sharp jaw, cute button nose and pinky lips fitting on there perfectly like a dolls features. They are accompanied by the prettiest, most enchantingly seductive eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, all coated in a shine that seems to come from the inside. His hair is a shimmery copper brown color, striking against his dark, deep blue eyes. Contacts, you guess, but not any less breathtaking. His suit is a royal blue too, shining in the light like Cashmere, and stretching over his wide shoulders just that tiny bit, as he leans forward. His lips curl up on his cute cheeks, a gorgeous smile slipping on, gentle and proud.

The suit becomes him perfectly, a handmade addition to his entire persona, accenting everything attractive perfectly. Wide shoulders and chest, slim waist, strong legs and a perfectly shaped butt. Not that you’re looking. He’s absolutely, entirely made of gold, you’re sure of it. You are probably drooling. After staying silent for at least a few seconds, Mr. Byun takes out his card, and slides it across the counter towards Haerin, who looks more than a little starstruck too. She gives him a deep bow, and scans the card, smiling nervously. “Good evening, Sir. It’s lovely to see you visit once again.”

The man nods, and finally straightens up, winking at her. “Likewise.” In a split second, Haerin’s cheeks flush a bright red. Mr. Byun looks around the beautiful welcome hall for a bit, as if taking in his creation, and back at the paparazzi outside. It’s only after a second you realize Bea is shoving you with her arm, gesturing to hand her one of the flyers. You flush and hand it to her, right before Baekhyun can see. “Is the top floor free this week, Haerin? If not, my penthouse will suffice.” He brushes his hands over his suit jacket once, and smiles again. You’ve never seen anyone’s face light up so much with a single smile.

“The top floor is free until Friday, Sir. Should I move the reservation of the residents to another floor?” Haerin quickly informs, a small frown on her gentle face.

“No need.” He takes Bea’s flyer into his long fingers with a teasing crinkle of his nose. “I’ll stay on the top floor until Thursday, and then move down to my penthouse.” He gives Haerin another little smile when she nods in understanding and indicates things on the computer. You snap out of your staring long enough to reach into the drawer to your side and take out the key card, handing it to Bea carefully. Room 208, on the hundred thirtieth floor. You almost laugh at the irony. They call it a room, but the home is bigger than your entire apartment floor.

When Haerin hands him the card, he gives her a little bow, and starts walking backwards. He glances through the door for a second, feigning a frown. “Be careful with my car!” He calls, before giggling and looking at the reception desk on more time. As if someone so rich would care what happened to their car. “I’ll see you ladies later. Have a good evening.” As he turns to walk over to the elevators, his eyes meet yours. Just a split second, they meet yours for the first time this evening, and widen. He keeps walking but a second later, he looks again, definitely straight at you. Your cheeks probably flush bright red. Then he’s disappearing into the elevator with confident steps, and out of view.

Bea’s hand wrapping around your arm pulls you out of your dreamy fascination and back into reality. “Holy shit. That was so intense.” She whispers, leaning into you a little. You blankly nod, and look back at the elevator. That must have been the most surreal moment of your life. You know of Byun Baekhyun, of course, you’d be an idiot not to know of your filthy rich boss. The first time you heard his name was four years ago, long into his career but fresh into yours, back then he had black hair and stared you down on a magazine cover as the most influential man of the year. You’ve read about him and seen his pictures more times than you can count but nothing, nothing does him justice. You decide it’s the eyes. They don’t capture the full magic of his eyes.

With a yawn, you settle behind your desk. You’ve never had the night shift before, and you imagine it shows. You’re determined to stay professional though, and blink a couple of times in hopes of getting the need of sleep out. You briefly wonder how many people would be passing through the doors this late, or early, but since it’s enough to have a whole crew work through the night, it must be a decent amount. Then again, you guess rich people have a lot of parties to attend to. Unlike you.

The silence is broken by the back door being cracked open, and a knowing smile walking through. Sehun, you read from his name tag, smiles at you and waves. He walks over and takes the seat next to you, not before placing a large cup of coffee in front of your face. “So you’re the poor soul they got to do night shift, huh?” With a giggle, you thank him for the coffee and take a sip. You’ve seen Sehun a few times around, when you came on mornings early and he left late, and once at the paid lunch. You haven’t spoken much before, but he seems quite nice.

“I volunteered, actually.” At his comically offended look, you break out laughing. “I know.”

“You must either be very dedicated to this job, or crazy.” Sehun concludes, taking a sip himself with a grin. “I mean, if you want a raise I’m sure you could just ask Mr. Byun and he’d transfer some pocket change to your account.”

You snort, looking away. “Yes, of course. That’s how people get raises, isn’t it?”

Sehun hums, before folding his one leg over the other, and leaning back in his chair a bit. He’s wearing the male version of your uniform, white button-up and light golden tie, along with black slacks. He smiles when he sees you looking. “This is your first nightly reception job, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is. It’s also my first time being with just two behind this desk, if I must admit.”

“You’ll have to hand people keys and scan their cards, think you can handle it?” His grin only grows when you don’t respond. “You know, the nights aren’t that bad. They’re pretty fun, actually. You get to see a lot of people stumble in on stilettos and with partners they definitely didn’t leave with.” This, in all honesty, surprises you. The people who enter during the day are so polished, so spotless, that any doubts didn’t cross your mind. Of course, humans are still humans.

Sehun groans for a second as he stretches his back, before he gets up from the chair. “Give me just one minute. I need to use the toilet real quick. I’ll be back in a flash, okay?” You nod, and watch him leave around the corner with some hurried steps, before taking a deep breath. You look at the windows, who now give a clear view over the fountain, as it lights up the driveway, along with the lines of spots. While you stare, a black Lamborghini rolls up slowly. Your palms get sweaty, as you look back and forward between the car and the way Sehun left. You’ve heard the speech you’re supposed to give new guests a million times by now, but you’re far from head receptionist.

The lift dings, making you scream internally and quickly put Sehun’s chair where it’s supposed to be, standing up smoothly. Out walks, with a casual stroll, Mr. Byun himself. His hair is styled away from his face, wearing a deep brown suit jacket that has the Gucci logo littered all over in sparkling letters. His hands are stuffed into the pockets, bulging them as if that piece of fabric doesn’t cost more than your rent, as his shoes tap calmly across the perfect floor. When he looks over at the reception desk, his eyebrows shoot up, confusion evident on his face. He walks over, before coming to a halt in front of you. He smells really nice, you notice. You don’t have a clue what scent it’s supposed to be but don’t doubt it costs way too much. A hint of sweetness, but laced with masculinity.

“Good evening, Mr. Byun.” You start, hoping the smile distracts from the nervous way your hands are clasped behind your back. “How can I help you?”

Baekhyun smiles at you, something that makes your heart slam, if possible, even harder against your rib cage. His eyes rake down to catch your name tag subtly, as if he doesn’t want you to notice. And if you weren’t staring so hard you would have missed it, too. “Good evening, Y/N. Where has your colleague gone?” His eyes are on yours the whole time, eye contact way too intense for you to take. Your heart really might soon give out if he keeps this up.

“He’s just gone to the restroom, Sir. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun hums in thought, before tapping his fingers on the marble, and glancing behind him. At the other side of the room is a door towards one of the many lounge rooms, now bathing in a gentle dimmed orange light. You doubt there’s anyone in there right now, apart from the serving staff and their champagne bottles. He turns back to you, and fishes something out of his back pocket, pressing his lips together. “Well, I’d like something delivered to my penthouse, please.” He sorts through a stack of at least ten different cards, sliding a gold one over to you. You nod, as you wait for the rest of his words. “Another mini fridge, for on the balcony. I’m sure I once had one but I think I might have moved it to my jet at some point.” He smiles.

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize you don’t have anything useful to say, and nod a couple times in acknowledgement. You slide the gold card towards you and grasp it between two fingers, leaning over to scan it. It slips though, and is sent clattering to the floor in the otherwise silent room. You can feel blood surge to your cheeks while you bend to pick it up, wishing you could just sink into the floor from shame. “I’m so sorry, that was clumsy-” When you get up, you smack your head into the bottom of the desk, and double over with a little yelp. “Aw, aw, aw, aw, aw.” You rub the back of your head when you straighten up, and just sigh. At this point, you don’t know if your nerves give up trying to entertain you or if you’re just numb.

You scan his card, and slide it back over to him, right when Baekhyun chuckles. You look up to see him looking with an endeared smile. “Are you okay over there?”

“I’m okay.” You ensure with a little guilty smile, waving your hands in front of you, and lean over the computer to confirm the order.

Baekhyun leans over the desk though, and into your space. “Let’s see.” He mumbles, gently placing his one hand on your cheek and the other behind your head, rubbing it back and forth gently. Your brain goes so fried that you can’t even make a sound, let alone move. It’s about three seconds of physical contact you were entirely unprepared for. He smiles again, before letting go. “That’s definitely going to be a bump.” You think you mouth a ‘thank you’, but at this point you might have said anything or nothing at all. He puts his card back into his back pocket, and takes a step back from the counter, looking over at his car. “Ah, walk with me?” He motions his head just slightly, as an added nudge to get you to move.

“Uhm- I-” You tumble, wiping your hands on your skirt, “the reception will be empty if I…”

Baekhyun smiles. “I think guests will forgive you walking the owner to his car.” His voice is a tad lower when he teases, going along with the little tilt of his eyebrow. You swallow, and nod, hurrying around the long desk on your heels to walk over to him. Right at that moment, Sehun comes around the corner. His eyes widen significantly when he notices that he just missed the Boss himself, and then even more at you. He sends you a questioning look, that you just mimic as you come to a halt next to Byun Baekhyun himself. You will yourself to wipe the mute look of shock of your face and smile.

Baekhyun holds out his arm, that you grab just ever so lightly, your fingertips barely brushing the fabric of his suit. He starts walking then, a smile on his lips that you catch from the corner of your eyes. You two walk through the door smoothly, into the chilly night air, and descend the beautiful stairs. In the few seconds it takes, you think you’ve gone through about a thousand logical reasons why you’re doing this, and a thousand more illogical ones. Baekhyun grabs the key from the man in front of him with a little nod, and deposits you to wait around the passenger side. He hurries his steps just a little to get into the low car, and rolls down the passenger window.

You blankly watch as he leans over to the console, and fishes through something to look up at you. You bend over so that you can take whatever is in his outstretched arm. “Take this to go get yourself an ice pack and some painkillers, please. I’m sorry about your head.” In your hand are six bills of a hundred thousand won. Before you can even open your mouth to discuss about the huge amount of money he just stuffed into your hands without looking, he sends you a blinding smile and a wave. “Don’t get too cold in that stuffy reception. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too.” You can just mumble, before the black Lamborghini speeds out of the driveway, into traffic.

Bea makes a face, and looks over at you once. “I mean,” she mumbles, stuffing one of the pralines in her mouth like it’s no big deal, “they’re cute, but they can’t be serious, right?” On the counter in the back room lay three golden boxes, with each of your names scribbled on top. Haerin giggles as she too takes out the present, and holds it up in front of her with her eyebrows shooting up. You can’t hold a little smile. In the bow is a pair of extremely soft, thick thigh high socks, black and with little bows at the front. You too untie the pretty packaging and open the box, breaking out in giggles. Bea shakes her head but smiles, mouth dropping open. “I mean, it’s not that damn cold at that desk. This is just overkill.”

“I think they’re nice.” You grin, poking the extremely soft, woolly fabric. You carefully take them out.

Bea glances at you and gives you a little shove. “As a uniform?!” She frowns when you laugh, and place the socks back in the bow. “I’m going to be sweating my ass off.”

Haerin shakes her head. “It’s designer.”

“Of course it is.” You sigh, shaking your head. You glance inside to check the label, and sure enough. Marc Jacobs. You don’t want to know how ridiculous the price of a couple of socks was. You pout, but pop off your heels, and bend down.

“What are you doing?” Bea questions, looking over at you.

“If Mr. Byun wants me to wear these, I’m going to wear these. At least until he’s back in New York or Barcelona or something. I’m not losing my job because I’m feeling a tad hot.” You giggle when you glance over at her begrudgingly put on the socks as well.

“How can I put my heels over this? It’s just silly.” Bea sighs, but she clearly isn’t ready to lose her income either. Not that you’re so sure Mr. Byun would just fire her, thinking back to yesterday. He genuinely seems like a good person, just coated in much more money than any sane person needs. When you turn around to put the box away, your eyes widen slightly. On the inside of the box is a tiny message scribbled in pen, the same messy handwriting as on the top of the box. ‘How’s your head? -B’

You don’t dare tell your co workers, because what would they think of you? Instead, you take the box and the other empty ones, and stack then next to the trash can, before walking out the door and behind the desk. Your head is fine, a little sore but fine nevertheless and you can’t help but wonder why your Boss would care. You didn’t use the money he gave you yesterday, but did go buy an ice pack after work, in the little shop the closest to the station. There’s only expensive stores in the vicinity, and you were not going to spend twenty thousand won for an overpriced luxe ice pack that you could easily get for two thousand won instead. You had just placed the money in a white envelope and placed it on your desk, in a hopes to get to deliver it back to him.

You don’t know if other people would have just taken the money, but you felt guilty about it. As you settle on your chair, the lounge across the reception catches your eye. There were definitely no huge flower bouquets on the tables last night, let alone three luxurious beige leather couches, with gold rims. Baekhyun sure had a vision for his company, and he never seemed to be satisfied. You look away when Bea and Haerin come to take their places too, talking among themselves quietly until they take place, then slipping into professional mode. It’s 6 now, and you only got off at 4 earlier, which left you with about half an hour of sleep, which you decided to skip as well. You just figure you could get an extra long night when you get off at 3.

At around 1 in the afternoon, you find out that you’re really not the type to go without sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open, and keep falling asleep on your hand, only to snap awake when your head bobs too much forward. Bea snickers every time it happens, but doesn’t say anything. She’s also had the night shift a few times when she was a newer employee and she ended up even more zombie like than you. Still though, you keep an eye out for Mr. Byun. He doesn’t pass reception the entire morning, and at two, you start getting a bit fidgety. You’d really like to deliver him the money right away, so that your conscience got a little break. You excuse yourself, and stand up. “I need to go deliver Mr. Byun the documents of the ordered mini-fridge before my shift ends. Would it be okay if I went up now, Haerin?”

Haerin blinks her long lashes at the clock quickly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s still on top floor, I think. And when you go, would you mind dropping off some of the paperwork left here?” You give her a grateful bow, and stand up to take the papers from her. You just did a quick prayer that he would not be at lunch yet, and hurry your steps to the elevators. The gorgeously gold decorated elevators, along with a deep black sort of stone. It wouldn’t surprise you if this too, was marble. You quickly press the button, and cross your arms over your chest. Though you’ve been to visit the ‘rooms’ a few times when you just started working, you’ve never ever been up higher than the fiftieth floor. Both because you’re mildly scared of highs and because that’s where the really, really rich people live.

You step into the empty lift slowly, and brush your hand on your skirt, before pressing the very top floor. Hundred thirty, to be exact. When you said Heaven’s Gate might be visible from every part of Seoul, you weren’t kidding. It’s the second highest building in the world to date. You have to scan your employee card, to get up to it too. With a deep breath, you watch the doors close. The calming music that plays is vaguely recognizable, but you’re too busy flicking your eyes all over the elevator in worry to care. When you get up to floor seventy two, within a sickeningly quick span of time, the lift stops, and opens. In walks a tall man, his stature standing far above you with dark hair and even darker eyes. Your breathing holds.

World class singer Park Chanyeol is standing in an elevator with you. His voice plays through the speakers in the small room. He sends you a warm smile, and presses the button, before the door closes again. Trying to stay professional, you only glance over twice, clenching the papers between your fingers too tight. Park Chanyeol is one of those people you had heard of staying in Heaven’s Gate, but had never actually seen. He’s wearing a dark suit, very crisp and clean looking, and his hair is styled neatly. He’s not wearing any type of make-up, you notice, used to see the singer on magazines in his signature soft glam eye looks. He still looks incredible though. When the elevator reaches it’s destination, he steps out, sending you a little nod of the head.

You only dare breathe after the doors close again, and continue up, watching the floors flash by in an instant. When you finally get up to the last floor, you need to take a deep breath to calm your nerves and gather your wit. When you walk out, you’re surprised to be in his actual house. You’re inside his actual house, without being checked by security or anything. You just look around blankly, and swallow. This isn’t the case with the lower floors, so you’re not sure what to do. “Uhm,” you clear your throat, and knock on the frame of the elevator once, “Mr. Byun? I have the paperwork for your order and the ones that were left for you at reception.”

A soft hum comes from somewhere in the stupidly large place, followed by a raspy voice, no doubt from sleep. “One minute. I’m putting on clothes.” You can feel the heat flush your cheeks, as you look out the window. “Take a seat!” He calls after you, and you move to do just that. The couches are decorated with Gucci logos, most likely custom, and way too soft for a normal person to have. It keeps surprising you, even though it shouldn’t. The view from the wall of windows though, genuinely makes you gasp. You can see the Ocean. That shouldn’t be possible, and yet, you’re so high up that it is. It’s faint, sure, but you can see it. You put the papers down on the coffee table, no doubt designer, and walk a little closer. Though you don’t dare look down, you watch with held breath. It’s like being up in the clouds.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You turn to watch Baekhyun walk around the corner, his hands crossed over his chest comfortably. He’s in a black, silk blouse, and black slacks. The shirt stretches over his shoulders ever so slightly, keeping it snug. You smile at the fabric choice. He sure has a preference, doesn’t he.

“I’m not such a fan of heights,” you admit, moving back to take a seat in the couch as he asked, “but you can’t deny the view.” Baekhyun nods, crossing the room to take a seat in the couch opposite you. With a polite smile, you slide the papers across the table, and sink back into your seat. “I don’t know if you have need for the receipt of the mini-fridge, but I thought I’d make sure. And the other bundle was sent up by Haerin.”

Baekhyun nods, and crosses his one leg over the other, quickly flicking through the pages. “Ah, taxes, taxes and more taxes. Of course.” He smiles, puts the papers down, and catches your eyes as he gets more comfortable in the soft plush. “Well, thank you, Y/N. I could have gotten them on my way down but still, I appreciate it.”

“I also,” you swallow, putting the envelope in front of him with a slight blush, “wanted to return this. I can’t just accept a sum of money from you, Sir. It would go against everything I stand for and I just… wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting it. Though I am very grateful for the thoughtfulness that you have shown me.” Baekhyun’s smile falters for a second as he opens the envelope, glancing inside swiftly. He places it back on the table just as fast, his mouth corners twitching.

He stands from the couch, and walks around it to stare out the window, stance casual but screaming authority nevertheless. “I hope you like the socks at least. I saw them last night and thought them quite cute. Don’t you agree?” He glances over his shoulder to look at the black socks that cover your legs today, and then at you, eyebrow lifting in question. You nod quickly. “I’m glad. You looked cold yesterday.” He turns to face you. “Do you know why I started construction on Heaven’s Gate in the first place? Do you have a clue?”

You stare at him but are unable to give a useful answer, instead picking at your skirt. “No, Sir.”

“Because I wanted to build the highest building in Asia. That’s the only reason. And investors were kind enough to see the opportunities that would bring and helped me bring it to life. Point being,” he smiles, leaning over you a little top pick the envelope back up, “I have so much money I don’t know what to do with it anymore, Y/N. Do me a favor, and take the money?” He holds the envelope in front of you again. You stand up though, and let your arms hang limply to your side.

“I can’t do that, Byun Baekhyun.” You bite your bottom lip, but stay stubborn, even when Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot up in an amused frown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a company lunch to attend. I hear it’s being paid by the Boss himself, and I wouldn’t want to miss it.” You ignore the way your stomach flips when you walk towards the elevator and get in. Just before the doors close, you catch Baekhyun’s giggle as he walks away. You hope you didn’t just lose your job, but hey. Like your parents always say, ‘Don’t let a man buy you what you can buy yourself..’ You smile as you go down, crossing your arms over your chest. Not even a man who makes billions a year.

Safe to say that when you arrive to work after the weekend, you’re more than a little surprised to see a huge bouquet on your desk, a beautiful mix of pinks and reds, with in the middle some sort of golden ornament. You stare at it blankly for at least a solid minute, enough to have Bea creep up behind you. She squeals when she sees it, rushing over to slap your arm. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. How romantic is this?!” You frown, and bite your lip, before shoving it a bit to the side. You don’t have a boyfriend. Along the side hangs a little tag, with the familiar scribbly handwriting, though this time a lot neater. ‘Please bring a stapler up to my penthouse, floor sixty. I’m in desperate need -B’

You roll your eyes, but take the stapler from the drawer under your desk, and stand up. “I’ll be right back. Apparently I need to bring Mr. Byun a stapler.” Bea sends a questioning look but nods, and waves at Haerin as she enters.

“Oh, Y/N,” Haerin blinks in surprise, “I thought you weren’t going to show today. I heard you’d be busy. I’ve already called Minhee into work for today.” You pout, confused. Had you been taken from the schedule to bring him a stapler? Really? You just pull up your shoulders, and look at her, just as lost. “Maybe a mistake has been made. I’ll check.”

“I’ll go bring Mr. Byun his stapler in the meantime, then. If I don’t return, assume I’m busy. Or dead.” The girls giggle when you walk past the reception to make it over to the elevators again. The journey up goes peacefully, and a lot quicker. You exit into the hall, in front of the pretty white door with, you guessed it, gold handles. Was it really necessary to get you to bring him a stapler?  Still, you knock, and wait patiently for the door to open. It does, quicker than you imagined it would. In front of you stands a half dressed Byun Baekhyun, chest still bare and his hair still damp and sticking in wild directions. He takes a step back, to let you in.

“Ah, the stapler. Great. You’re quick.” He doesn’t wait up for you to follow behind, and leads you into the huge place. Top floor might be gigantic compared to this, but you might even prefer it. It’s a two story, for one. Dark steel beams hold up the second floor and make up the staircase, giving it a classy but industrial feel. Still, there’s chandeliers left and right, glamming up the room. You spot the rose-gold sink, and swallow. Right. Rich. You hand him the stapler after catching up with his steps, not daring to look over at him yet. Baekhyun just smiles as a thank you, and picks up the bundle of papers from the dinner table in front of him, entirely out of glass except for the dark steel frame. He makes it a point to staple the bundle in your view, and nods. “Perfect, it was missing just that.”

He hands you the staple back, before moving through a door to your right, as you follow behind blankly. That was why he needed a stapler so damn bad? For a single bundle of paper. Baekhyun soon returns, after having put on a white button-up, a lot more casual than you’ve seen him up till now. He adjusts his watch once, before beaming down at you like he’s a kid on Christmas morning. “I didn’t expect you to come so quick, but that’s okay. We can grab breakfast, and then go on with the day after. I have a meeting at 5 but should be able to make it for dinner.” You blink. Breakfast, dinner? Your face must give off the clear confusion you feel, because Baekhyun pauses. “I need to get a present for a friend, a surprise. And since you were so helpful on Wednesday, I thought you’d make a great model for my shopping spree.”

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of your mouth, as you watch Baekhyun dig through a drawer full of car keys, picking one out and tossing it to you. He smiles when you catch it, and pauses in front of you, giving you a one over.

“You’re going to get blisters walking in those all day.” He motions his chin to your shoes, and turns around to make a thinking noise. “Follow me, pretty please.” He leads you past the kitchen and past the stairs, to another room. It’s a giant walk in closet, which makes your mouth drop open. He walks to the far side, and presses a button to have the shoes rotate and disappear, making place for new ones. “Here. I get a lot of presents from companies, and get a surprising amount of female clothes and shoes each year. You can pick some you like.” You make a noise of disagreement, but Baekhyun grins. “To wear. Today. Just today. Don’t get all worked up.” He moves to leave the room and tuts his lips. “You’ll get wrinkles on your pretty, little face like that.”

You decide to just do as he says and pick a pair of shoes to wear, settling on some gorgeous black ankle boots with a slight wedge. When you walk out, Baekhyun looks up. His eyes rake over you in silence, long enough to have goosebumps break out on your skin. When he looks away, he nods, and gets up from the couch. “You look pretty.” He motions you to follow then, and leads the way. You just know that if he keeps acting this way, you’ll have to quit. You can’t fall in love with your boss, and knowing you that is definitely going to happen if Baekhyun keeps this up. The damn man is too charming for his own good, and he knows it. You follow behind the handsome man begrudgingly, not forgetting to leave the stapler on the kitchen counter as you leave. Stupid stapler.

Turns out, you’ve never been in a Ferrari before. Also turns out, Baekhyun drives really fast, and by the time you get out you must look like a threatened cat. He parks along the side of the road, because why worry about your car being stolen when you can just buy another the next day, right? He walks over to open the car door for you and holds out his hand, that you ignore out of shock and maybe a little because of the car ride. He smiles though, and points towards a petite shop, that looks very expensive even from the outside. You follow him, ignoring the potent stares of the people that pass by, and thank him as he holds the door for you.

Baekhyun tosses his jacket over one of the tables, effectively claiming it, and walks toward the counter. “This is my favorite breakfast place.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder to watch you. You hum and take in all the delicious pastries that are laid out in the display in the shape of a heart. Baekhyun straightens, and looks outside a second. “What looks best to you? I can’t choose.” Everything looks good, you can’t blame him. You do notice that there’s no prices anywhere to be found, which always means it’s overpriced. Still, you hum.

“That right there, with cherries looks so good.” You nod, and look over at him. “And the chocolate truffle thingie.”

Baekhyun nods and smiles, before turning to the lady behind the counter. She has a bright smile on her pink lips, black hair pulled back in a tight pony. “Good morning, Mag.” He drums his fingers on the glass display. “I’d like the usual, and the cherry pie and chocolate truffle cone for the lady.” You turn to stare at him with wide eyes. This little… Before you can intervene, he takes your hand and pulls you to the table he so elegantly claimed. You’re put in the chair, and watch as Baekhyun slides in opposite you, a proud grin on his lips. You have never… met a man this extra.

The woman comes to place your plates in front of you quickly, as you thank her profusely. You keep a glare on your face at Baekhyun though, as he takes a bite of his chocolate chip muffin. When he sees it, he smiles. “Look, I ordered it now. Will you please just eat the damn thing, or are you going to let it get thrown away?” The woman returns with the last place, which just has strawberries, a light pink instead of red. You follow her with your eyes a second. Yup, this place definitely is way out of your budget. “Y/N.” Baekhyun mumbles, as on cue, “It’s my treat. Now please, stuff something in your mouth so that I don’t feel like a huge asshole.”

You sigh, but pick up the little fork, and eat a bit of the cherry pie. You can’t stand the idea of food being thrown away. When you chew, you’re very glad at your decision. It’s seriously heavenly, and you almost moan at how good it is. Baekhyun smiles in accomplishment when you eat too, before putting one of the strawberries on your plate. “Taste one of these too.” He motions, as he picks up his coffee. “They are my favorite.” You kind of don’t want to give in to all of this. Of course, you can’t help your curiosity, and pick up the baby pink strawberry. You pout, a full on puppy eyes-pout.

“It tastes like money.”You mumble sadly, looking at your shoes. This sends Baekhyun into a laughing fit.

From the moment you enter the shopping mall, you feel out of place. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, and while your work wear is far from cheap, you feel silly in your name tag. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to notice, leading you around the place like he’s ready to visit every shop and actually buy things. You sigh. You suppose this should be fun, but it just gives you stress. The bill for breakfast was fifty thousand won, and you now feel a strong need to pay Baekhyun back. He doesn’t need it, but you do. For your sanity.

Baekhyun enters a jewelry shop then, dragging you along. He’s too giddy about this. “Who is this friend of yours?” You instead mumble, and look around the shop, careful not to touch anything.

Baekhyun is looking into a glass confinement with shimmery eyes. “She’s been a good friend ever since I first started. She’s getting engaged so I want to get her the best gift she can have.”

“The most expensive gift.” You blurt, looking around the shop.

Baekhyun turns, frowning slightly. “Not necessarily.” Your cheeks get warm when he sends you a little look, one you can’t immediately decipher. “These products are so expensive because they are made from great materials, by great artisans. Which is why I don’t care how expensive it is. I want the best for the people I care about. I like spoiling people, I guess.” He walks over to the counter and says something to the person behind it, before turning back to you. “Is that a bad thing?”

You don’t answer, though you feel like shaking your head. Instead though, you come to stand next to him. You wring your hands together in front of your lap. “Is it true?” Baekhyun just stares. “That you pay the company lunches from your own account?”

“Yes.” Baekhyun just nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I wouldn’t be anywhere without the people who maintain my company. Treating them is important.” You pout, and look away. So he is that sickly rich. “Why do you look so shocked?” He thanks the man when he returns with more necklaces, and turns to you instead. “You do know I make billions every year, right, Y/N?” You don’t. Well, you suspected it, but hearing it come from his lips is something else entirely. Baekhyun seems so normal. He seems like a normal, kind, if somewhat annoying person. He matches entirely to the image you had of him, and not at all at the same time. You don’t know how to feel about that either. Baekhyun, seeming to know you won’t answer, sighs, and taps your arm gently. “Here, I need a female opinion. Pick one.” At your glare, he smiles, and holds his hands in front of him like a shield. “I won’t buy it for you like I did last time, I promise. It’s really for my friend.”

You sigh, and turn to the necklaces, checking each one carefully. If this is what he took you out to do, you were going to do it to the best of your ability. Your eyes land on a dainty little necklace with a single diamond in the middle, and from that, two that would fall down the chest. It’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry. “That one.” You point, glancing over at Baekhyun again. He stands pressed next to you, his eyes on your face. You tuck your hair behind your ear when you notice, and look at the floor. “That one would look really pretty on any girl.” Baekhyun hums, and picks it up gently, holding it between his slim fingers. He takes a step towards you again, and nods.

“Brush your hair back for me.” The whisper makes you stare up at him with big eyes. You look at his shoulders instead when he smiles, and brush your hair from your neck. His arms go around carefully, leaning into you so close you can not only smell his shampoo, but also feel his breath dust over your shoulder. He flattens your hair out a little, and takes a step back. All the while his eyes are on yours. He pauses, and then nods. “You were right. It does look really pretty.” When he takes the necklace back off, you hold your breath, heart beating against your rib cage steadily. A small curl comes to the corner of his lip when you squeak softly at the coldness of his hands.

He places the necklace back, and nods at the man. “We’ll take this one. Please package it well, it’s for a gift.”

When you two leave the store, Baekhyun taps your arm. “Here.” He pushes a small pink box into your hands, different from the black packaging the present had. “This one is for you.” You open it carefully. Inside, is a thin golden necklace, with in the middle of it a tiny little glass-like shape. A diamond bird. You look up at Baekhyun, who is a few steps in front of you now, and swallow. You can’t accept this, can you? “It’s a reminder that you can get over your fear of heights.” Baekhyun explains, his hands in his jacket pocket. “Everyone can become someone they dream of being, you know. I didn’t start with all this money either, after all.”

“Baekhyun, I-”

“I thought it was Mr. Byun to you.” He smiles, before looking around the huge mall, and then back at you. “Please just take it? It’s a present, okay? And more than that, it’s a request. I’ll drop you off in a bit, because I don’t want to hog you all day. But I am taking you to dinner tonight.” Baekhyun smiles when your mouth drops open. “If you say no, I’m not going to fire you, don’t worry.” He shrugs, and sends you another blinding grin. “If you say yes, it’s a date.”

I cut it here because super rich!Baekhyun made me go a little off track and make a huge ass fic, so there will be a part two to this. I hope you enjoyed the first part, at the very least.

If you liked it, please let me know by sending me a message. I’d appreciate it so much. I’ll try to get the next part out as quick as I can, so that you don’t have to wait too long. Thank you for reading!!

[marvelhiddlestan]

Hide and Seek (Part One)

Hey everyone! I thought it was about time to put some use to this blog and write something. So, as inspired by @mywritingsblog ‘s ‘Amends’ I decided to write a little something about my faves Tom and Seb. I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s my first Marvel fic and I’ve probably done a really crappy job but everyone needs to start somewhere, right?

Summary:

Y/N meets wealthy photographer Tom Hiddleston and becomes hugely infatuated with him and his charm. She lets him whisk her away to wonderful places, to meet fascinating people and introduces her to a new, beautiful way of life filled with crisp white bed sheets, ocean view houses, limitless glasses of champagne and pure luxury. But when the money and leisure lands Tom into trouble with some bad people, he panics and leaves Y/N to her own devices. Heartbroken and afraid, she gathers what money she can find and moves to a small apartment complex in Brooklyn, where she meets goofy and sweet bartender Sebastian. Y/N and Seb fall for each other hard and fast, both of them seeing a bright future ahead of them. This is all cut short when Tom finds Y/N, telling her three things. One, he still loves her. Two, he’s still in trouble. Three, now she is too. And so is everyone around her. As well as now having to stay alive, she has to choose between the two men that mean the world to her.

Pairing(s): photographer!Tom x Reader and bartender!Sebastian x Reader.

Warnings? strong language, drinking, smoking, tons of fluff and romantic shit, violence, implied smut.

Requests are open for Marvel characters and actors, btw :)

*not my gif*

part 1 | part 2

Translations:

τι ένα όμορφο πλάσμα = “what a beautiful creature”

The mesmerizing Greek night sky illuminates the crystal waters, each ripple of wave reflecting the moonlight clearer than a polished diamond. I slowly inhale the crisp air so I can appreciate every scent surrounding the balcony in which I’ve resided. The exotic food from the lively restaurant downstairs, the crackling bonfire over on the beach, the sweet, lingering scent of my perfume… this is where I need to be. Surrounded by culture, laughter and happiness. This is where I thrive. This is where I belong. Suddenly, I hear the snap of a camera and I spin around in shock, my thin, royal blue dress floating around me as I do so. I discover a beautiful slender man with curly, sandy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes that don’t differ from the Grecian ocean. I’ve seen him around the hotel and town, taking pictures of market places and the crowds on the beach. I caught him by the pool the other day laying in the sun and dear God… he was probably hotter than the weather.  

“ τι ένα όμορφο πλάσμα.” He purrs.

“I’m sorry… I don’t speak Greek.” I smile politely.

“You should learn, it’s a wonderful language.” He replies in a sleek British accent.

I’m taken aback by how sultry and calm his voice is and how well it fits to his appearance. His fitted white button-up shirt and casual black jeans with brown dress shoes perfectly portray this suave persona he’s keeping up.

“So you’re not local?” I ask, now desperate to make conversation with this alluring stranger.

“Unfortunately not.” He chuckles lowly, letting his camera hang from his neck.

“Was I just a victim of a privacy invasion?” I raise an eyebrow and nod to his gorgeous vintage-style camera.

The stranger smiles gently and wanders beside me, gazing at me with his sapphire eyes. His sharp jawline and perfectly structured cheekbones make me think that he’s some sort of supermodel, but his kind eyes and calloused hands suggest otherwise.

“I try to capture the wanders of the world. Oceans, buildings, skylines, outstandingly beautiful people,” he smirks. “Hence the invasion of privacy, my dear.” 

“Well when you put it like that, I guess you’re welcome to take as many pictures as you please.” I laugh.

“Actually, I think I’m done for the night. I’d like to have a conversation with the dazzling woman that I’ve so maliciously violated. Does she have a name?” He queries, subtly trailing his eyes up and down my body.

“She does. Y/N.” I tell him.

“Very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he smiles. “I’m Tom.”

Tom leans against the stone balcony and reaches into his breast pocket to get a packet of cigarettes, then holds the carton out to me, followed by my grateful acceptance.

“So… Tom. What do you do?” I ask as he lights our cigarettes. 

“This. Travelling to extraordinary places and trying to immortalize the finer things in life such as yourself.” He flirts.

“Ah, a photographer. Not surprising.” I sigh.

“How so?”

“I just presumed that if you look like that, then there must be a camera involved.” I flirt back.

“Mm. You flatter me,” he laughs. “What about you?”

“I’m a novel writer posing as a travel journalist for the shittiest, lowest paying magazine in America.” I chuckle, taking a long drag of the well-earned cigarette.

Tom grins in amusement at my bitterness over my crappy career, mirroring my actions with his own cigarette.

“Novel writer? How interesting.”

“Not really, I’m clearly nowhere near good enough or you wouldn’t be hearing me bitch about how awful my job is.” I sigh sadly.

“Oh, come on. What kind of stuff do you write?” Tom asks, appearing to be genuinely interested.

“I write about strong women. Doesn’t matter what genre, even though fantasy and action do help. I just remember reading all of these books growing up about these fantastical women and thinking that I wanted to be like them. However, since I don’t have any magical powers or adventures to go on, I just thought that it would be better to create them instead.” I explain, turning to look over the golden sands that meet the deep blue.

“You strike me as a strong woman, Y/N. Don’t doubt yourself like that, you seem absolutely incredible.” Tom tells me in a calm, comforting tone.

“Oh please, you don’t even know me.” I scoff, flicking ash off of the end of my cigarette.

“Maybe so. But I’d like to.” His sultry voice hooks my attention and drags my eyes from the horizon to his now very close form.

“Now why would a beautiful stranger like yourself be interested in little old me?” I hum, my fingers extending to his torso and playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Because you, my darling, are absolutely fascinating,” He whispers seductively, taking one last drag and then throwing his cigarette to the floor. “And if you wanted an adventure, all you had to do is ask.”

I bashfully look to the ground as he continues to eliminate the little space between us, but a sudden wave of confidence surges through me and I look up at him with a challenging expression ghosting across my features.

“Tom, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to seduce me.” I accuse him.

“Am  I that transparent?” Tom smirks.

I giggle at both his response and his continued advances, knowing that I’ll probably end up in a hotel room with him at some point tonight, but I try to long out our conversation to see if I can get him to break this elegant facade. Well, if I can wait that long.

“You know,” he starts, brushing my hair behind my shoulder. “I have a bottle of tequila back in my room if you’re interested.”

I dwell on the thought for a moment before throwing my cigarette to the ground and walking back into the hotel. I stop under the marble arch and turn to see a fairly disappointed Tom.

“Are you coming or am I drinking alone?” I ask.

His features lift from their dismayed state and he struts towards me and snakes an arm around my waist, guiding me to his hotel room with a great urgency.

Tom and I reach the top floor after a tortuously tension-filled elevator ride and stroll over to the third door we come to. His room is in perfect condition, not a pillow or item of clothing out of place. On his bedside table, there was a small, leather bound notebook with a fountain pen on top of it, placed directly next to an empty glass and half-full bottle of scotch.

“Tequila and scotch?” I point out. “A man of class, I see?” I laugh, sitting down on the couch at the bottom of his bed.

“I try my best.” He replies, setting his camera down on a small table next to his door and then sauntering over to a tray of bottles and glasses, pouring out two tequilas. He hands me mine and sits down beside me, relaxing into the back of the chair and taking a sip while keeping his gaze fixated on me the entire time. 

“So, did you just bring me up here to drink surprisingly decent hotel tequila or do you have any ulterior motives?” I smirk, holding the crystal glass close to my lips. Tom laughs and rests his drink in his lap, blushing slightly at my rather forward question. 

“You’re a brilliant judge of character, aren’t you?” He winks.

“Helps for when you meet handsome strangers in foreign lands. I like to know if the people I want to sleep with want to sleep with me too.” I tell him with a sly grin.

He gets up again, taking my drink from my hands and setting them both down on the silver tray that he originally retrieved them from.

“Who says I want to sleep with you?” He playfully questions, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the table. I sigh deeply, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear and smoothing out my dress.

“Well you see Tom, I did have an ulterior motive, but if we’re not on the same page, I guess I’ll leave you be.” 

I begin to walk away, but the second I get close to the door, I’m slammed into the wall as Tom animalistically smothers my neck with aggressive kisses and soft bites and quickly unzips the back of my dress, eager to remove any item of clothing covering my skin. He turns me around and pins my arms above my head with just his left hand as he moves his attack to my lips, eliciting moans from me left and right.

“Fuck,” I groan into the kiss, frustration taking over due to the fact that i can’t touch him.

Tom finally releases my arms and I fumble around with the buttons of his shirt, desperately trying to tear it off, as he slips my dress from my body and grabs my thighs, signaling for me to jump and wrap my legs around his waist. I quite happily oblige and he carries me over to the king sized bed, continuously switching his kisses from my lips to my jaw, to my neck.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” Tom mumbles into my neck as he lays me down onto the satin sheets. Various items of clothing fly in different directions, landing in odd spots.

Heavy eyes, sore legs and strong arms. Those are the first things that pop into my head the next morning. In the mirror opposite me, I can already see red and purple love bites adorning my neck and chest, and Tom’s arm draped around my naked torso. I roll over and an unconscious Tom sleeping peacefully and lightly murmuring in his sleep, occasionally shifting around among the sheets. What now? Do I leave? Is this a one night stand? Am I supposed to stay? Do I go freshen up?

My train of thought is interrupted by Tom’s stretches and yawns.

“Morning.” He croaks in his morning voice.

“Morning.” I reply with a smile.

He places two fingers under my chin and places a soft, lingering kiss on my lips.

“Last night was…” I trail off, lost for words.

“Fun?” Tom finishes my sentence for me.

“Yeah, fun.” I laugh.

My neck catches his eye and he averts his attention to the hickeys spread completely across my throat.

“Oh my God… I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize they were that bad.” He chuckles sheepishly, delicately running his fingers over my neck.

“It’s fine, really. Doesn’t bother me.” I shrug, taking his hand from my chest and holding it down by my hips where he starts to gently caress my upper thigh.

“As long as you’re sure.” Tom smiles sweetly.

This is a completely different man from the one I met last night. The Tom last night was flirty and seductive, but this… this Tom is almost a polar opposite. He’s attentive and caring.

“I should probably start preparing for the walk of shame, right?” I sigh and start to sit up, trying to locate my clothes.

“Wait… you should stay.” He pleads.

“Really?” I ask, a little shocked but also kind of relieved.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you. I thought we could get breakfast. I’d like to get to know the ‘strong woman’ novelist that works for the shittiest, lowest paying magazine in America. If you’d like to get to know the pretentious photographer, that is.”

Persuaded, I relax back into his arms and place a brief kiss on his lips.

“I’d love to,” I whisper. “And pretentious isn’t the word I’d use.” I add with a slight giggle.

“Ah, so what word would the author use?” Tom asks.

I think for a moment, letting out a quizzical hum.

“Aside from aesthetically pleasing?” I smirk, only half joking. “I don’t know yet. It’ll come to me.” 

We stay in bed for the rest of the day, ordering room service, watching movies and to put it delicately- fucking in every spot of the room.

A week later, I wake up in Tom’s hotel room again. I reach over to his side of the bed, but I’m met with nothing but emptiness and the cold. I open my eyes and search the room for him, but all I find is a note on the night stand.

“Darling Y/N,

If you wake up before I’m back, I’ve just gone on a small photography walk around the hotel and on the beach. I won’t be too long, seeing as the idea of you in my bed keeps me distracted and I can’t focus. Back soon.

Your’s,

Tom x

P.S, you look absolutely stunning this morning.”

Smiling like an idiot, I place the note back on the nightstand and roll over back to where I was before. Shortly after, Tom returns in a white shirt and blue suit trousers with his camera and a satisfied grin.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Tom smiles, setting his camera down.

“Yeah, I only read your note like, five minutes ago.” I tell him.

He lays next to me and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, leaning in to whisper something.

“I was wondering if you needed waking up this morning.”

My breath hitches and my body temperature rises as he slowly climbs on top of me and begins to leave sloppy kisses down my neck.

“I’m sure I can be persuaded…” I mutter.

After a while and round… I’ve lost count if I’m honest, we both get dressed and head downstairs. We order breakfast and discuss both profound and meaningless crap. We don’t realize how long we’ve been sat in the hotel until staff ask us if we need to see the lunch menus. The both of us kindly decline and leave for the beach, where we walk along the shoreline until the sun goes down and the stars appear.

“So, how long are you here for?”Tom asks after our long talk about our childhoods.

“Only another three days.” I sigh, kicking some sand around.

“And then?” I look up at Tom, who has a deeply disappointed look behind his sparkling blue eyes.

We stop walking when we reach a dock and he takes my hands in his.

“And then I go back. Back to Colorado.” I say sadly, looking at the ground again, noticing the ocean that washes up and very nearly touches our feet. He lifts up my chin with his index finger and gazes down into my eyes.

“I’ve had the best time with you for these past few weeks. I’ve never connected with someone so much in such a short amount of time and you’ve been truly wonderful to be around. So thank you, Y/N.” Tom smiles sadly while caressing my hand with his thumb.

“Me too. I’ll miss you when I’m gone. You were by far the best part of this whole trip and I’m so glad that you photographed me without my consent.” I joke, causing him to erupt into a huge smile.

“Do you really have to go? You can’t stay a little longer?” He pleads.

“Tom, I wish I could, but my boss won’t fund my flight if I miss the one she booked for me. I wish I could be with you and not return to the city that constantly sleeps. God, you have no idea how much I just want to stick around and be with you-”

“So do it.” Tom cuts me off.

“Excuse me?”

“Stay with me.”

“What?” I breathe hollowly, completely astounded.

“Stay with me. Quit your job, come traveling with me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I blurt out.

“Really?” Tom’s eyes widen in shock.

“Yeah, really. I hate my job, I can’t stand my neighbors, and the past week with you has been the best time of my life. I’ll go with you, Tom.”

And with that, he sweeps me off of my feet and kisses me passionately underneath the stars.

THREE YEARS LATER.

“Tom?” I call out, walking through the door of our shared LA home. “Tom, you home?” 

The only sound that meets my ears is that of the echo of my boots hitting the oak floors.

I frown in confusion, thinking that Tom should’ve been home from his meeting by now, seeing as it’s about to get dark. Plus, his car is in the drive- another factors making me even more suspicious about his whereabouts.

“Thomas Hiddleston, I swear to God… you’ll be the death of me.” I mutter under my breath, picking up some mail from the kitchen counter, flicking through bills and letters from Tom’s interested buyers.

I turn around when I hear the sound of the front door opening and shutting, followed by a sweaty, panting Tom, who’s clad in running gear from head to toe. He smiles as soon as he lays his eyes on me and takes out his earphones.

“Hello Darling,” he kisses me on the cheek. “When did you get back?”

“About thirty seconds before you stepped through the door. Where’d you go on your little adventures today?” I ask, jumping up and sitting on the island in the kitchen.

“Just around the woods. How’s your mother? Does she still despise my very existence?” Tom laughs.

“Mm. She still thinks you’re a bad influence, even three years on.” I roll my eyes.

“Maybe I am.” He winks.

“In the best way possible.” I sigh happily, hooking my finger into the neckline of his shirt and pulling him towards me, then placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“She’ll learn to love me, I’m sure.” He replies, tucking a few hairs behind my ear.

“Tom, I’m not even sure if she loves me and I’m her daughter.” I joke.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love. It’s hard not to love you.”

Tom’s compliment makes my cheeks burn a deep scarlet and causes me to grin from ear to ear.

“You flatter me, Hiddleston,” I giggle. 

“I need a shower, don’t forget that we have that party with the Hemsworths tonight.” He reminds me.

As he walks away, I let out a huff of breath in a fed up fashion. I’m usually always up for these kinds of things, but recently I’ve been more and more reluctant to go. Tom and Chris have been good friends since we took a trip to Australia and Tom was doing a promotional shoot for Chris’s wife Elsa’s new movie at the time, so it’s not like we can’t go because we’re all so close. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m going through a phase where I’m not feeling particularly social and I’ll be back to my lively self once it passes, who knows.

“Want me to join?” I call after him.

“Darling, the day I say ‘no’ to that question, I want you to shoot me.” Tom replies, still heading to the bathroom.

After putting my final diamond earring through my lobe and straightening my dress, I strut downstairs and find a formally suited Tom waiting by the door.

“Someone cleans up nice.” I smirk, adjusting his tie.

“I could say the same… you look absolutely stunning, my dear.” Tom’s blue eyes trail up and down my body, admiring each bump and curve, making me feel even more beautiful as I notice the look of admiration behind his eyes.

“Save it for later, gorgeous.” I smirk and waltz past him and out of the door.

Tom shortly follows and opens up the car door for me in a gentlemanly fashion, which plasters a smile across my lips. Once he sits in the driver’s seat, Tom opens up the roof of the car, then placing his hand on my thigh and lovingly grazing it with his thumb.

“Excited?” He asks with a grin.

“Yeah, I guess.” I flash a half smile as I gently shrug my shoulders.

I turn to Tom, who is looking at me with his classic:

“I know something’s wrong and I’m not going to drop it until you tell me” look.

“What?” I sigh, rubbing my forehead tiresomely.

“What do you man ‘what?’? You love parties! More importantly, you love Chris and Elsa. What’s wrong? And please be honest with me, don’t say you’re fine so I leave it alone.”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t been in a ‘party’ mood lately. It’s like… for once I’d just like it if we stayed at home. I honestly can’t remember the last time we stayed in and just watched a damn movie in our sweats instead of getting all dressed up and making pointless small talk all night with people we either don’t know or don’t like. Is that such a terrible concept?”

Tom sighs and rests his head against the back of the driver’s seat.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because you love these things. I don’t want to be the one to disappoint you.” I say sadly.

“You couldn’t disappoint me, Darling. Yes, I do love these things, but I love you more and if you don’t want to do something, then I’m more than happy to do whatever you prefer.” He smiles softly while still rubbing my hand with his thumb.

“I love you too, Tom.” I tell him in all sincerity, glad that he isn’t angry about my indifference to social events.

“Want me to call and cancel?” He offers.

I dwell on the thought for a moment, but shake my head in defeat.

“No, it might be fun. Plus, I’m never one to argue against you wearing a suit.” I smirk, only half joking.

He laughs in response and blushes a little.

“So.. think we could be a little late?”

After being a half-hour late because of… reasons, Tom and I arrive at Chris and Elsa’s door.

“Oh my God, Tom…” I giggle, smoothing down some of his un-kept sex-hair. 

“Whoops.” He snickers.

The door swings open and we’’re greeted by a grinning Chris and a laughing Elsa, who both somehow become even happier when they see us.

“Hey guys!” Chris exclaims.

“Hey, how are you both?” Tom smiles as Chris engulfs him in a hug.

Elsa grabs my hand and pulls me inside, leading me straight to a table full of alcohol.

“Every time I see you, you get me drunk!” I exclaim.

“Are you objecting?” Elsa giggles.

“Obviously not, but that isn’t the point.” I reply, taking a shot and then wincing at the burning sensation in my throat. Elsa chuckles hysterically at my slight intolerance to the alcohol.

“You are late.” Elsa playfully narrows her eyes and points her glass of Merlot at me accusingly. 

I chuckle lightly as I pour myself a cocktail, flicking the tiny umbrella in as I finish.

“I have my reasons.” I smirk, clinking my glass against hers.

“I bet. And may I say, your ‘reasons’ are looking absolutely dashing this evening,” she nods towards Tom, who’s talking to a number of men in equally flashed out suits. “So tell me, how many times? Three? Four?” She teases.

“It was both a quickie and none of your business! And yes, he does look great tonight.” I smile.

As the night carries on into the early hours of the morning, Tom introduces me to countless people who are interested in his work, none of whom manage to make even half a good impression. Chris breaks out a karaoke machine, much to his kids’ demise. However, the moment that the three children set their eyes on Tom, their moods were instantly turned around. Sasha runs up to Tom, only to be lifted into the air by my adoring boyfriend. Elsa creeps up behind me and watches as my partner cuddles her son in a way that comes so naturally to him. 

“He’s good at that. You next, right?.”

Whoops, there it is. The seven words that strike fear into my heart. Kids? God, I was only just warming up to marriage, never mind kids. Sure marriage is a huge commitment, but at least you can get out of it. Not that I would want to get out of a marriage with Tom, but you never know what can go wrong. But kids… that’s a forever deal. Permanent, constant, infinite.

“Yeah… I um, I need a drink.” I choke out and rush over to the still-overflowing table of alcohol. No Y/N, no more alcohol. You have to drive. My hand edges away from the bourbon and vodka and reaches for water instead.

As I shakily pour the water into a glass, I feel a pair of arms slink around my waist and a head rest on my shoulder.

“Wow Elsa, I never knew you felt that way about me.” I joke, earning a drunken chuckle from Tom.

“What are you thinking about?” He slurs.

I sigh a little and take a sip of my drink.

“I’m thinking about getting you home-”

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles into my neck just before leaving a trail of sloppy kisses.

“And getting you sober, don’t get too excited. You need some sleep,” I turn around and kiss him softly, “so it’s time to say our goodbyes.”

I drag Tom over to the Hemsworth family and we begrudgingly depart, promising each other lunch at some point in the upcoming weeks. Chris and Tom aggressively hug each other, causing Elsa and I to roll our eyes at the ridiculous display of masculinity. 

On our way out of the house, we’re stopped by a man requesting Tom’s presence elsewhere. Tom excuses himself and walks away and I watch them as I unlock the car. The man has lead Tom to a group of people stood in front of a silver Mercedes, all of which are lead by a short, pale man in a white suit. The conversation looks pretty friendly until the short man begins to frown at Tom. He begins to push him backwards slightly and yell profanities that are just barely audible. Everything becomes incredibly heated, but Chris manages to step between Tom and the group before things start to get nasty. From what I gather, he tells them to leave and then turns to Tom once they leave. Chris shakes his head in disappointment as Tom tries to reason with him, but to no success. In the end, Chris just places a hand on Tom’s shoulder and nods over to me. As soon as he does so, I look away as to not look like I’ve been watching them. Moments later, Tom returns by my side with a see-through fake smile playing on his lips.

“Come on then, lets go home.” Tom coughs out.

“Everything okay over there? Looked pretty rough.” I comment, searching for any kind of truth behind his baby blue eyes.

“Yeah, it’s all fine.” He shrugs.

“Didn’t look fine. Are you sure you’re oka-”

“I’m fine, it’s fine. Just a buyer. Couldn’t afford the pieces he wanted. Darling, it’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go home, my love.” Tom caresses my cheek

SAO PAULO, BRAZIL. TWO MONTHS LATER.

White sand washes off of my legs as I step into the shower of our shared hotel room in Sao Paulo. The heat from the water cleanses my body of the morning, but unfortunately, not my mind. My fingers wipe away the mascara streaks covering the dark bags of fatigue under my eyes. The one thing I can’t wash away is the heartbreak.

Y/N. I can’t begin to explain how sorry I am. I love you with everything I am and have,  but this is something I have to do. I’m in trouble. I have to leave, because if I don’t, things aren’t going to end well for me. I didn’t want to do this, but I have to. You’re my world and these past three and a half years have been the best of my life. I wish I could explain and I wish I could make it up to you, but I can’t. I don’t want anything bad to happen. I’ll always be your’s. But I’m gone. Possibly forever. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances. 

I’m sorry.

Tom.

So here I am. Alone. Brokenhearted. Empty. 

[hellomissmabel]

Only if for a night

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader, Hal Carter x reader

Summary: the prompt was “my relationship status” for @emilyevanston her cards against humanity challenge. Y/N finds herself intriguid by a summer stranger and reflects on her life. Loosely based on the series “The Affair”.

Word count: 3.424 (magic number!)

Warnings: Mentions of loss of a child, drowning, cheating and sexual activity. There’s unprotected sex, too, so please wrap it before you tap it. People under 18, this is not your cup of tea.

A/N: Florence and the machine fans will know...

Tag list is open for any and all of my stories

I live in a small town where everybody knows everybody. A small town that lives off tourism and the “summer people”, those folks who only show some kind of interest in our lives for as long as the summer keeps them from returning to their Upper East side life. To be honest, I expected him to be just like that. Do nothing but spend his money and chill on the beach with his filthy rich friends for the entirety of two months. He was a writer, a Hollywood screenwriter residing in Boston during half of the year with his family and in New York for the other half to work on his next big project.

We met for the first time at one of the events some Wall Street hotshot organised on a weekly basis for his fancy friends. My bestie Grace and I were working as cocktail waitresses, much to my dismay. I didn’t want to take the gig but since we’ve been short on money for a while now and it’s a debt the summer people are unlikely to pay off for me. The thing about summer people is that they’re just that, summer people, people here for the summer. They judge us, the people that live in town, with our ordinary lives and our ordinary occupations. Yet at the same time they are happy to profit from our goods and services. But not him.

He was nursing a glass of Jack Daniels, sitting on the far end of the terrace, nearby the pool. Grace had noticed him throwing glances my way every now and then and every so often made a comment about it herself. “Look at the summer stranger and his heart eyes” or “I wouldn’t mind a beard burn from that man”. Yet it wasn’t her sexually suggestive commentary that enticed me to take the plunge and go over to him, this summer man with his summer clothes and his summer money, looking for an innocent flirtation.

It’s because he’s just like me, an outsider in their inside world. He belongs, with his summer clothes and his summer money, to the establishment that can afford to live the high life ever year for two months straight. But just because he has the clothes or the money doesn’t mean his mind follows the set of rules that is culturally and socially associated with that kind of wealth. He seemed more down to earth than all the other summer strangers just passing through.

“Hi there,” I greeted him with a small yet kind smile.

“Hello,” he replied softly, romantic blue eyes settling their gaze on my lips as I spoke to him. “I was wondering when you were going to come over.”

I sat with him on the edge of the pool, our feet dipping into the cold and soothing water, long after the party had ended and the guests had vacated the premises. He knew the man hosting the party and knew he probably wouldn’t mind us hanging around a little longer, probably too drunk off his ass to give a shit.

“Did you enjoy the party?,” I asked him, trying to break the ice, twiddling with the hem of my high-waisted shorts that gladly replaced the little black dress I wore for the occasion.

He shook his head, chuckling. “No. I didn’t enjoy the party.” He took a sip of his drink, looking at me from the corner of his eye, seemingly amused. “Let’s just talk about something else, shall we?”

So we talked. We talked about his job and how his writing was going. Turns out it wasn’t going at all. He lacked inspiration. He lacked a muse. I chose to indulge him and listened to him speaking about how his last script got rejected due to a lack of suspense. His editor didn’t like the ending he delivered because it was different from what he had first promised him. But, so he said, sometimes the story takes over and the writer loses control and that’s exactly what happened. He was stuck on an ending that wasn’t going to make the cut. So here he was, talking to a pretty summer girl in a pretty summer dress, hoping to find the right ending.

“I divorced my wife a little while ago. I still see the kids every now and then. They live in Boston and I live in New York,” he explained to me in his gentle voice. “She has always been my inspiration and so when I left my wife, I left my muse behind as well.”

“What happened?,” I inquired as the curious little creature I am.

“I cheated on her.”

His voice didn’t give away any sign of remorse. He stated it as a fact, a fact that he expected to disgust me. But it didn’t, because he’s a summer man and a lot of the summer men I’ve encountered during these many past summers have cheated on their wives, their girlfriends or their paramours at some point. But only a few of them actually file the divorce papers, afraid to lose their high-maintenance image and the perfect family life that’s anything but perfect.

When he couldn’t find any sign of disgust or surprise laced in my expression, he tilted his head in my directions and levelled me up from head to toe, intrigued. “I cheated on her last summer with a waitress.”

Very early on, I had already sensed that our conversation was heading that way. Maybe he liked me for my body or my potential to be a great summer fling. And maybe I came up to him for the exact same reason, a summer lover on a hot summer night. “If this is your way of getting into my panties,” I laugh lightly, my eyes trained on his still, “You should know a something about me first.”

He nodded, his interest peaked. “My guess is that it’s about your relationship status. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you? A beautiful woman like yourself is rarely available.”

“Your guess is correct. I am a married woman.”

“But you’re so young,” he counters in his defence.

“I married young,” I replied casually, continuing with my story.

I told him how my husband and I got hitched right after high school. How he had taken up a job at his father’s ranch to provide for us and to be able to pay off my college debts. And then his father died and he inherited the ranch. It was a lot of work, it still is a lot work, and almost all of our money goes to that ranch. But he loves it just as much as he loves me, so we keep it for as long as we’re allowed to.

“It’s been a struggle. A struggle that has dragged our marriage downhill.”

Of course there’s a huge chunk of information I didn’t disclose with this summer stranger. I somehow forgot to mention that when I got pregnant, I couldn’t go all the way to school anymore and certainly not once the baby was born. So anyway, I had to drop out and my husband thus took on a second job to keep us afloat. When our son was big enough, I found a part-time job at one of the local restaurants as a waitress, which is where I met my best friend Grace.

And then my boy died. My son drowned.

I always blamed my husband for not paying enough attention even though he was only distracted for a couple seconds. You see, he took our boy to the beach to collect sea shells and to see if they could perhaps spot some exotic sea creatures. But he just had to take his stupid brother along with him, always nagging on and on about how he was going to make the big money and get the hell out of here. How he was going to make it to the big city and one day show up here with all the other summer people, too. My husband was getting sick of it and told him to just stop talking and enjoy this day out. As he was reprimanding his brother, he lost sight of our boy for just a couple seconds too long, my baby drifting further into the water in pursuit of a fish. And then the big wave came.

“Where is your husband now?,” the summer stranger asked, oblivious to the personal tragedy playing in my mind.

“At home, playing cards with his buddies.”

“So he won’t miss you for another hour?”

“Probably not,” I sighed softly, watching intently the waves my feet produced as they wandered through the clear-blue, chloric water of the pool.

“Let’s go for a swim then,” he suggested, standing up and offering his hand for me take. “Come on,” he encouraged, “Let’s go to the beach and have a swim.”

Despite my fear for the water that swallowed my son’s soul, his calloused hands wrapped protective around my own made me feel like I had been afraid of nothing more than my own imagination. He radiated strength, masculinity and a certain softness these summer men rarely disclose. He only let go of my hand to shed himself of his clothes and strip to his boxers. I followed suit and unbuttoned my shorts and sleeveless blouse. When you’re living so close to the sea, you’re used to wearing your bikini or swimsuit underneath your clothes in case you’re invited to an impromptu party at the beach.

Stepping into the waves, his back turned to me, I could clearly make out the well-defined muscles on his back. They rippled deliciously with every move he made, reminding me of my husband. Men like him, men like this summer stranger and my husband, they are used to female attention. They thrive underneath the gaze of many young and old women longing for a taste of their divine. I have learnt to put up with the constant sideway glances I receive from women who think I’m less than what my husband deserves. All the summer women who think of him as nothing but a piece of meat, an extramarital dessert to their husband’s main course. Or the local women who know of our history and put the blame on me. If I hadn’t been such a bad mother, I would’ve gone with my husband and his brother to keep an eye on my boy.

And suddenly he was facing me, capturing me with his strong embrace and twirling me in the water. “You look so damn sexy,” his voice echoed with the splatter of water. My hearty laugh filled the night-time air and caused the moonlight to clear up his features. Then he put me down again and cupped my face, kissing me sweetly on the lips. Pulling back again for air, he gauged my reaction but wasn’t given much time before I laced my hands around his neck and crashed my mouth to his again.

We kissed and as we did so, his fingertips danced to my butt and he lifted me up so I could hook my legs around his waist. Walking from the cold water of the sea to the hot sand of the beach, he sat me down on a nearby rock and moved to stand between my legs.

“You’re married,” he exhales breathlessly, tucking a strand of my sea-soaked hair behind my ear.

“You’re divorced,” I answered cheekily, leaning into his touch as he cradled my cheek in the palm of his hand.

“I cheated on my wife. It shook up my entire life. I don’t want to ruin yours the same way I ruined hers.”

“Don’t worry about me. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“My house is just five minutes down the beach.”

Turns out summer men are excellent lovers. I’ve heard stories, many very detailed stories. From girls I work with that hook up with summer men after closing time and girls that come to the ranch with their summer sugar daddies. Somehow my husband never asked me if I ever fancied one of those summer men. Like I mentioned before, I knew very well that most of the women in town and practically all of the summer women wanted my husband, wanted sexual favours from my husband like he’s just some stable boy straight out of a B-list movie. But that’s the thing about losing a child, it breaks a marriage just as much as it mends it. Losing my boy didn’t make me love my husband any less. Losing my boy didn’t make my husband love me any less. It just made our marriage suffer.

As the sheets surround me and my summer lover, we began our mutual quest. He insisted on getting me off first, placing my legs onto his shoulders as he sucked gingerly on my clit. Engulfing my entrance with his mouth, his tongue teased my wet folds. My heath welcomed the wanted intrusion of his fingers pumping slowly, hitting that sweet spot with perfect precision as he curled them over and over again. He was eager to drink up my juices and sucked his fingers clean afterwards, a proud smirk plastered on his handsome face.

Crawling up my body, he peppered kisses all over the scars that time and childbirth have left on my skin. Even though some of them are quite visible, the darkness of night and the intimacy of the moment kept him blind to them. I told him not to leave any marks or any bruises before we embarked on our sinful adventure.

When our lips met in a fiery kiss, he rolled us over so I was on top. Sitting back, straddling his legs, I brushed away the hair in front of his eyes and leaned in for another passionate kiss. Then it was my turn to give him the pleasure he sought after upon our first meeting earlier the same evening. From base to tip, I licked his proud cock, stroking his stomach with impatient desire. He tried to swallow his moans when I close my lips around him, but he failed at such endeavours once I started bobbing my head. Sucking him off with fervour, I took him as far as I can without gagging, relaxing my throat and massaging his balls to speed up the process of his release. He came rather quickly, his hot cum leaving a salty aftertaste on my tongue.

But just like my husband, he wasn’t completely satisfied unless his partner is. Quickly switching positions again, he pressed his lips to mine in a needy kiss, the tip of his cock nudging my labia and spreading my arousal to ensure he was able to ease himself inside me gently. When he was finally fully sheathed, stretching me out with his well-endowed length, the summer stranger allowed me to take as much time as I needed to adjust to his generous size. Luckily, so I told him, my husband is a big boy himself and soon he started to thrust languidly but deeply, building up to a pleasure so pure it should be forbidden.

My fingernails dug into the strong flesh of his shoulders and back whilst he kept my hips in place as he picked up the pace, going from soft and tender sex to a straight-up punishing pace. With laboured breaths, he pounded into me and I spread my legs as far as possible to feel as much as possible.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” he whispered into my ear, nibbling shortly on my earlobe before ghosting his hot breath over my throat. “I want to take you from behind. Smack that gorgeous ass of yours as I cum,” he ordered with shallow, low grunts.

Pulling out of me entirely, he swiftly turned me onto my stomach. “Take me whatever way you want. I’m yours,” I panted heavily.

Resuming his rough ministrations, he buried himself to the hilt, one hand clutching my breast while the other snaked underneath me to play with my clit. “That’s it baby, moan for me. Moan for daddy.”

His impressive strength, insatiable stamina and muscle built allows for multiple orgasm in various positions. “You never asked me for my name,” he growled when our third orgasm sent us both to seventh heaven once again.

“You didn’t ask for mine either,” I cried out as I threw my head back, screaming in pleasure with a string of profanities on my lips.

His thrusts faltered as he rode out our orgasms, moaning loudly with pornographic impact. “The name’s Chris. Chris Evans.”

As he slid off me, I laughed heartily. “Nice to meet you, Chris Evans. Thank you for giving me the best fuck in a long time.”

Chris walked over to the bathroom to fetch us some wet wash cloths to clean us up and I watched him intently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The name’s Y/N. Y/N Carter.”

“Well, Y/N. I guess I should thank you for providing me with enough inspiration to rewrite my ending,” he called over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I keep you around as my muse?”

“Your mistress, you mean,” I corrected.

“My muse,” he stressed, turning around and leaning against the bathroom sink. “You fuck your mistress and call it a day,” Chris explained with a mischievous smile, “But you fuck your muse and come up with one hell of a story.”

When I come home, my husband Hal is waiting for me, sitting in his chair at the kitchen table. He taps the wood of the table impatiently, his eyes lost in thought until they lock with mine. “Y/N! Where were you?,” he asks urgently, eyes wide with distress. “The party ended hours ago.”

“I’m sorry. Grace and I went for drinks at the beach after,” I lie smoothly, dropping my bag on the floor and moving to sit in his lap. His arms encase me protectively and his lips are drawn to mine like magnets. Even after losing our only son, there’s still that connection. Although we don’t have a much sex as much as we used to, we are still positively addicted to one another.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers in that rough, deep voice of his. My fingertips play with his chestnut hair as I look into his light grey eyes. “I missed you, okay?,” he confesses tentatively, biting his lower lip and gazing at me from behind thick, long and lush eyelashes.

The thing with Hal Carter is that he’s every woman’s wet dream. Sculpted chest. Chiselled, well-defined muscles. A smile that breaks all the hearts. And he’s a sweet talker. But he’s incredibly faithful, too. You’re his girl, his woman, his wife and ain’t nobody gonna change that. “I missed my baby.”

Smiling warmly, endeared by the golden heart underneath is tough, bad boy exterior, I tenderly move my lips against his in a soft kiss. “I’m tired, Hal. I’m going to bed, you joining me?”

“Of course, baby,” he obliges quickly, melting like wax to a burning candle underneath your touch.

What you’ve done earlier tonight, sleeping with a summer man, sleeping with Chris, it’s wrong and you know it. But you needed to get it out of your system, all the rage and the self-blame and the tears you’ve been keeping to yourself. You’ve been stitching yourself up for what seems like an eternity. But the featherlight touches on your skin, the imprints Hal leaves on your skin, they’re forever. This thing with Chris isn’t and that’s why the guilt will never eat you alive.

As you guide your husband Hal with you to the upstairs bedroom, he gently squeezes your hand and you look over your shoulder to see him staring back at you lovingly. You’re happy you said no to Chris when he asked you to be his muse. You can’t be someone’s mistress and you certainly can’t be anyone’s muse. You can be his one-night-stand and that’s all there is to it. You consider it to be grief counselling, one night of unadulterated hot summer sex with a hot summer lover. A cleansing of some sorts. In with the new and out with the old.

So when your legs hit the side of the bed and you collapse onto the soft mattress, Hal’s body hovering over yours, you ask him the one thing you couldn’t ask of him until now. “Make love to me, baby. I’ve missed you, too. Make me yours again.”

@beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @hymnofthevalkyries @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @austinamelio @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @justareader @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux

[theblogramblingritika-blog]

Entering the world of escorting

31st, December 2008; a 20-year-old hyper excited girl woke up at 6 A.M -  jittery with joy!

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had come home to Delhi over my winter / Christmas college break from U.K. My parents, as almost always, weren’t in town; away on one of their unending business trips. More joy to me though, which meant I could throw some wicked parties and have friends over until late almost every day.

But that was not the plan for that day. I was excited because my best friend had gotten her hands on VIP passes to one of the swankiest New Year party in town. My head was going bonkers. Parties are a very big deal for us women. Makeup, dress, hair - it must be perfect. Delhi parties are a nightmare — everybody judges you on your looks.

I looked at my watch, it was only 7 a.m. “Damn it! Why won’t the time move faster?” I cursed out loud. I needed to go to the hair salon but that won’t open till 10 a.m. What am I to do? I headed to my indoor pool. Stripping out of night suit, I jumped into the warmed water of the pool naked. Nobody is home, why wear a swimsuit? The water calmed my nerves a bit. In no mood for any vigorous workout, I enjoyed an hour of slow backstrokes and then go out the pool and sat naked on the poolside chair.

A pack of Davidoff Mild was lying next to the chair. I lit a cigarette and inhaled the awakening fumes deeply. Yes, I know smoking kills but there are only a few joys in the world that compares to having the first cigarette of the day. Stubbing the cigarette, I went for a long shower and again checked my watch.

9:30 AM. It was time to head out.

My Blackberry had started to buzz. Seems like I was not the only girl losing her shit over the party. What to wear? How to do the hair? What shoes? Which car to drive? The BBM group was going crazy. I finally made it to the parlour for my 10 AM appointment.

Ah, such joy. So relaxing to get a nice head massage, getting your hair shampooed, conditioned, straightened and sculpted to perfection. I drove back home and cracked open a bottle of 2005 Australian Shiraz. Yes I know it is midday, but who gives a fuck. It is the day before New Year, I am entitled to get drunk whenever I want to!

Oh goodness! I looked at the bottled! Fuck! It was half finished and I swooned a bit. Drunk already? I hadn’t eaten much and the robust red wine hit me hard. Phone rang. I picked it up. Shivangi screamed from the other side, “RITIKA!!! It is fucking 4 PM already!! ARE YOU FUCKING READY??” The call brought me back to my senses! Damn! I had to get ready, the party starts at 7.

I stripped out of my t-shirt and jeans, threw away my bra and panty and ran naked to the walk-in closet. What to wear? What to wear? Times like this, a girl’s mind goes blank. My closet felt empty although in reality, it was overflowing. My fashion design teacher taught me well. She said when in need, it is always Valentino to the rescue.

What I wore was simply stunning. A black, off shoulder short chiffon dress from the Valentino 2008 winter collection which exposed my thin shoulder and neck and exhibited my toned slender legs. Underneath, I had a black satin Victoria’s Secret demi bra coupled with the tiniest black thong. For shoes, it was a pair dark grey Jimmy Choo.

I checked myself out in the mirror. Damn! I looked hot! I spun around with the confidence of a supermodel. Yes, if looks could kill, I would be a serial killer tonight. I sprayed a whiff of Chanel No. 19 on my neck and wrist and it was time for the evening to start.

Travel time from my house to the club was around 20 minutes. Party starts at 7 and the clock read 6:45. My friends were already there so I revved the engine and drove like a proper ‘Dilliwali’, doing 70-80 km/ h. Not that I am entirely proud of that.

I reached the hotel and my friends were standing at the entrance, starting at me furiously. I handed the car key to the valet and ran to them. “Let’s get this show started guys!”; I screamed and queued up to enter. At the entrance, we flashed out VIP passes and were quickly ushered away by the staff away from the crowd. We headed to the private area which looked incredible. It was quiet, the decor, classy. It had only a handful of people. I could hear some muffled music from the dance floor below

We had our own DJ who played to an audience of no more than 50. The music was groovy, the alcohol was flowing like water and we were dancing and grooving like there was no tomorrow. It was around 10 pm when I realized that I really needed a break. My legs hurt from the dancing so I left the club and went to the hotel lawn to get a moment of peace and quiet. Also, I badly needed a cigarette break.

It was dark in the lawn, illuminated sparsely by some low-level lights. I went and sat in the gazebo and lit a cigarette, drew in a long puff and closed my eyes as I let go of the smoke.

“That thing will kill you…��. A deep rugged voice spoke out and startled me, “…and it would be a shame to see a jewel like you disappear so soon”; he continued. I looked at a guy sitting opposite to me in the gazebo. DAMN! He was so handsome. Must be in his mid-40s, he looked rugged, just like I like my men to be. His face was chiselled with a hint of stubble. He wore a blue pinstripe suit and trousers and his bow tie hung loosely from his neck. He held a whisky glass in his hand and a cigarette burned between his fingers. Taking a sip from his glass, he asked, “Bored much? Parties aren’t really my thing.” I nodded like a bedazzled school girl.

I have been sexually active since the age of 16 and as a girl with a nice face and thin body, I had my way with boys and always managed to get them to do my bidding. But this man was out of my league. I knew I was being played and he wasn’t even trying.

I tried to make some small talk and he tried to look interested and then he suddenly stopped me as said, “40,000″.

“What”; I asked.

“Yes, 40,000 rupees to spend the night with me.”; he affirmed confidently.

“Excuse me!” I pretended to be offended. “Do I look like a prostitute to you?”

“No, but I am bored, you are bored. You are clearly feeling turned on so why don’t you say yes, and make some money from the evening?” he coolly stated.

I was dumbfounded. Yes, I was turned on. Turned on by his confidence and his audacity. Turned on by the fact that I was being made an offer to be a prostitute for a night. As the daughter of one the leading industrialist in the city, 40,000 didn’t mean much to me. It was literally change-money but the fact that I could get fucked and get paid for doing it made me feel incredibly dirty in a kinky sort of way. I felt a familiar tingling sensation between my legs. I bit my lips. I could feel my pussy getting moist.

“Yes. Let’s”; I said weekly, avoiding any eye contact with him. For the first time, I was feeling shy about sex. It was the most amazing concoction of emotions I had ever felt.

He held his hand out towards me. I gave my hand to him, getting up from the bench. He held my hand firmly and walked back to the hotel. Turns out he was staying in the same hotel where the club was situated. As we walked across the lobby, I avoided eye contact with anyone. I felt like a criminal but truth be told, nobody really cared on this busy New Year eve.

We got in the elevator. He pressed number 7 and the elevator began its upward journey. By now my legs were like jelly. I could barely stand. I was nervous. He sensed it. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and said, “Chill, I won’t hurt you.” I pretty much surrendered myself to him. I let him lead the evening.

Room 7021. That’s where he was staying. He slid in the key card and the door clicked open and lights turned on. He led me in and closed the door behind me and proceeded to dim the lights of the room. I was breathing shallowly while he looked confident. He came close to me, put his arms around me and said, “let’s not play around, shall we?”.

His hands slid down my back, seeking the zipper of my evening dress. He slid it down and with a confident tug near my waist, my entire dress slid down, dropping on the floor crumpled around my leg.

Normally I am immensely confident of my body. I loved exposing but that night, I felt strangely naked and vulnerable. I stood there awkwardly in my black bra, thong and shoes.

“Wow! What a beauty”; he said admiringly. “Now let’s get you in the right mood”; he winked at me.

He held my hands again and drew me close to him tight and planted a firm deep kiss on my lips. His tongue slid effortlessly into my mouth and I had no intentions of resisting him. Oh God! He was such a great kisser.

One of his hand squeezed my ass and another groped my breasts roughly. It was a full-on sexual assault and I was loving every moment. My pussy responded almost immediately and the floodgates of pussy juices opened. I had never even been so wet before.

He continued to grope me, feel me, lick me, kiss me and eventually, his hand slid inside my thong and his warm fingers made their way to my soaking wet pussy. He pulled his finger out and sniffed it deeply.

“Someone is beginning to get naughty”; he grinned at me wickedly. By now, I was horny without any bounds. I was getting comfortable and gaining the confidence in the situation.

I looked at his crotch and saw a huge bulge in his pants. Looking at him I answered wickedly, “someone is feeling a bit trapped, ay?”

I searched for his zipper and slid it down and then slide my hand under his underwear and felt his hot thick penis. As I touched his penis, he let out a loud “aah”. He was feeling the pleasure! He closed his eyes.

“Shall we do something about this?” I asked him like a cheap slut. He was enjoying every bit of it. I started pushing him and pushed him till I made him sit on the chair. I pulled down his pants and underwear to his knees and then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. I exposed his slightly hairy and hard chest and then like a pro, I started licking him, starting at his neck, down his chest, lower, I reached his stomach, I went lower, I reach his pubes and then my mouth finally makes its way to his cock.

His cock was big with a nice girth. I took it into my mouth completely and start working my magic. My lips wrapped firmly around his cock and I slowly bobbed my head up and down, up and down, up and down.

Now it was my turn to be in control. He closed his eyes and just sat there speechless, clearly in sexual heaven. I unhooked my bra while I continued giving him a blowjob. I reached out and held his hand and guided it to my breasts. Oh! I just love it when a guy squeezes my boobs while I suck him.

Both of us were in heaven by then.

“Ritika! Stop…stop!!” he screamed. “I am going to cum”.

“Cum inside my mouth”; I said, like a proper street hooker.

“No! I want your pussy”, he said and saying that he leapt up, threw away his pants, underwear, shirt. He picked me up effortlessly and dropped me like an animal on the bed.

His huge penis was throbbing. I wanted it inside my pussy. I wanted to be fucked like a bitch. I wanted him to ram his hot rod into my wet hungry pussy.

He slid a Durex ultra-thin over his cock and got on top of me. We weren’t in the mood for any kissing or lovemaking. What we wanted was pure raw hard fucking.

He positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy and with a hard effortless push, it slid completely inside me.

FUUUUCK! Oh FUCK! It was amazing. I was beyond any control and so was he. He waited for a second and then started thrusting his cock inside me like a steam engine. Hard, rough, in and out, in and out. My boobs bounced up and down and he would take small breaks to bite my nipples or squeeze it or suck it. He was fucking me real rough. I lost all senses, I didn’t know where I was, what date it was, what time it was. The only thing I was aware of was his mammoth cock penetrating in and out of my pussy.

I was screaming and moaning in joy. OHH! OHHH! OHHH!! AAAHHHH!!! when suddenly my phone rang loudly. I looked at it. The caller ID read “mom” and the time read 00:00 hrs, 1st Jan, 2009.

What do I do? I had to take the call but there was no possible way I wanted the sex to stop.

“Don’t stop but be quiet”; I told him as I hit the answer button.

“Happy new year darling”; I heard my mother’s voice from their side. I wished her happy new year and proceeded to have a normal 2 minutes conversation with my mother and father while my client continued to fuck me like a piston. This felt so wrong and yet so right.

Hanging up, I refocused on the sex. The relentless pounding continued and my body began to tighten. Suddenly, I screamed out loud … “OOOOOHHHHH FUCCCCCCKKKK!!!!” and my pussy tightened around his cock as I had the most intense orgasm of my life. My entire body shook like an earthquake but he didn’t stop. He wasn’t done yet and he wanted his money’s worth.

A few minutes later, he said, “get ready Ritika, I’m gonna cum!”.

“Don’t waste your cum inside the condom”; I screamed and he quickly slid his cock out of my pussy and removed the condom. We rapidly exchanged positions, just like a cliched porn flick. He got on his back while I leapt up and reached for his cock. I grabbed his cock real hard, put my lips over the head and started rubbing it very fast and within seconds I heard his loud groan while thick white hot cum screamed out of his cock and entered my mouth. I swallowed his salty hot cum hungrily.

We both collapsed on the bed. We lay there for a few minutes, completely covered in sweat. A bit of his cum trickled out from the side of my mouth. My heart was beating so hard that my entire body shook with every beat.

I was satisfied, he was satisfied.

I got up to go to the bathroom to wash up, clean my mouth and get dressed. By the time I got out of the bathroom, he had gotten dressed. He was wearing his night suit and signalled me to a thick envelope on the table. I picked it up and there was cash in it. I didn’t bother counting.

He made it clear that he didn’t want me hanging around and I was more than happy with this arrangement. We exchanged phone numbers and he promised to get it touch when he would come to Delhi again. I smiled, he hugged me and we said goodbye.

I made my way back to the club. My senses were readjusting to the dancing and music. I spotted my friend on the dance floor and went up to her and started grooving again. She was a bit drunk, she looked at me and said, “Ritika, where the fuck were you?”.

“I had just gone out for a smoke break.”; I replied, with a wicked grin on my face.

[mrsbsmooth]

.

I need to speak on this because it’s happened far too many times and seems to be a recurring pattern with Fusebox.

It’s really shameful and disheartening to see how often Fusebox puts black women characters into couples with people that don’t actually like them, and proceeds to villainize them in the eyes of MC/other characters in the game.

We’ve seen it in S2 with Hope being loyal to Noah then getting disrespected by him when he confessed to MC in the end.

We’ve seen it with Grace in S6, sticking with Ozzy although he’s disrespected her and clearly wasted her time by staying with her when he was pining for MC all along. And even when he does tell her he’s not interested anymore, she does everything in her power to “win him over” instead of allowing her to rightfully look elsewhere for love.

And if you’re going the Jin route in S8, it happens with Luna. Jin doesn’t want her but he sticks around to spare her feelings. She embarrasses herself trying to win him over only to get booted off the show.

Next, they love to turn them into the “mean ones” by getting upset with MC/defending their relationship when romance (often initiated by the one they’re coupled up with) strikes.

Then they’re the enemy and everyone is waiting for them to be voted out of their game.

Yeah, sure, they’re just characters. It’s just a game. But it blows my mind, especially seeing this as a black player, that time and time again they’ve done this with the black women characters in the exact SAME way:

1. Couple with someone that’s not interested

2. argue/be a jerk to MC/refuse to take hints that their love interest doesn’t like them

3. do acrobatics to win said love interest over

4. get heartbroken, kicked off

If you’re going to put black women in your show, is it too much to ask them to be respected? To be deserving of a happy ending too? Reflect on how you’ve been representing black women, Fusebox.

Then do better.

[kiwi-tai]

!!!!!!

I need to speak on this because it’s happened far too many times and seems to be a recurring pattern with Fusebox.

It’s really shameful and disheartening to see how often Fusebox puts black women characters into couples with people that don’t actually like them, and proceeds to villainize them in the eyes of MC/other characters in the game.

We’ve seen it in S2 with Hope being loyal to Noah then getting disrespected by him when he confessed to MC in the end.

We’ve seen it with Grace in S6, sticking with Ozzy although he’s disrespected her and clearly wasted her time by staying with her when he was pining for MC all along. And even when he does tell her he’s not interested anymore, she does everything in her power to “win him over” instead of allowing her to rightfully look elsewhere for love.

And if you’re going the Jin route in S8, it happens with Luna. Jin doesn’t want her but he sticks around to spare her feelings. She embarrasses herself trying to win him over only to get booted off the show.

Next, they love to turn them into the “mean ones” by getting upset with MC/defending their relationship when romance (often initiated by the one they’re coupled up with) strikes.

Then they’re the enemy and everyone is waiting for them to be voted out of their game.

Yeah, sure, they’re just characters. It’s just a game. But it blows my mind, especially seeing this as a black player, that time and time again they’ve done this with the black women characters in the exact SAME way:

1. Couple with someone that’s not interested

2. argue/be a jerk to MC/refuse to take hints that their love interest doesn’t like them

3. do acrobatics to win said love interest over

4. get heartbroken, kicked off

If you’re going to put black women in your show, is it too much to ask them to be respected? To be deserving of a happy ending too? Reflect on how you’ve been representing black women, Fusebox.

Then do better.