high profile clients

Hunter Part One

Description: Assassins!AU; Private clients, high-profile targets, big payouts, underground layers - all part of the job when you’re a hitman in Kim Taehyung’s empire.

Genre: Action and smut (18+)

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Jungkook’s POV, no reader insert, violence, character deaths, derogatory language, MAJOR BDSM themes (bloodplay, cumplay, knifeplay, breathplay), mentions of necrophilia. 


A/N: Here it is! Please understand, again, that this is not going to be a lighthearted fic. This will be intense, with dark themes, and will include death. To a large degree. I’ve planned a whole AU around this, so please do not ask me to insert something you want or complain that so-so isn’t how you would do things. I do hope you enjoy it. :) If it’s not your cup of tea, ah well.

Thanks to @ellieljade for inspiration, beta-ing, and making my lovely banner. :)

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the fighter

request: Can you write about Harry getting a new personal trainer to help him get in shape (like boxing and cardio and stuff) and he gets set up with a really pretty girl and he really likes her but she won’t date her clients and he tries to persuade her and ya whatever you come up with!!!

i had a lot of fun writing this one so i hope you guys like it ((: a huge thank you to @stylishmuser for reading this over for me ily


questions, comments, concerns.

You’re pounding away at the punching bag in your pastel pink gloves, sweat dripping down your forehead and french braids bouncing against your shoulders as music blasts through your headphones. 

You’re expecting a new client soon and sometimes your nerves act up when that happens, knowing you’re an amazing personal trainer, but knowing sometimes men can’t see past your pretty body or your “girly” pink gloves. On top of that, you’d been informed that your new client was Harry Styles, former member of One Direction. The most high profile client you’d ever had.

You don’t hear him come in behind you as you’re hitting the bag as hard as you can to fight off your anxiety, sending it flying on the chain in the opposite direction. As it’s swinging back in your direction, you take the time to swing your leg around with the intention of kicking the bag in a more dramatic move than necessary. But as you twist your body your leg narrowly misses the man and he falls over trying to avoid a kick to the gut. In your shock you lose your balance and fall back on your butt, the bag swinging forward and colliding with your head instead of the foot it was meant for.

Ripping your headphones off and standing immediately, you tower over him, “Christ, don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone who’s training?”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to let you know I was here without startling you.” He stuck out his hand, “I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” 

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Damn i just found my first Throwback Thursday post for y'all haha. Ever wonder what it would’ve been like had i went to you’re high school? Well heres a pic of your favorite ego crushing vigilante, The Dragon Of Devastation known as Chaos Vortex when I was 16 in the 9th grade back in 1999. By then I was already working a full time night shift construction job and slanging dope not just to other HS kids but to the high profile clients like surgeons and lawyers and shit so my time was stretched thin as fuck lol. Just off camera is the trademark backpack I always had with me that housed a full variety of drugs and weapons that drug legends are told about by the campfire lol. Basically I was nice to you as you are to me and I despised bullies and treated them savagely. I even went after ones in other schools when I discovered them and stomped them on-site to humiliate them in front of their peers as an example. Seriously, I openly demanded that anyone who is being bullied to report that shit to me not the school so I can handle it. Although I am sociable, I never made any effort to socialize with anyone my age cuz I come from a family of O.G.’s so HS games never interested me. everyone just kinda knew that unless you’re a beautiful woman, are trying to buy some party supplies, or needed my combat services, then you probably weren’t gonna get me to hang out with you. Muthafux knew that once Chaos Vortex shows up, its strictly for at least one, if not for all 4 reasons, and that’s to get fucked, get fuckin paid, get fucked up, or fuck some shit up lol!

wingsofbadass  asked:

Erwin is the noisy neighbor who always has too loud sex. Levi loses his patience and goes to rip him a new asshole. But then "oh no, he's hot"

I can’t remember if this was a three sentence prompt or not, but I feel like writing some I’m gonna say it was a general prompt. It got long, so I also put it on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10334981

Levi has lived in the worst shit holes in creation–boarding houses with rooms for rent by the week, dilapidated Victorian homes cut up into boxes for a rotating cast of drunk college students, apartments with holes in the floor, multiple roommates. 

And then there was the time the bathtub fell through the ceiling. 

But it was that, or cohabitate with the one blood relation he had. Kenny, an uncle most recently out on parole (at least that Levi had last heard), already looking to get back into the same unsavory activities that sent him to jail in the first place. [Read here: https://flecksofpoppy.tumblr.com/post/158503940498/erwin-is-the-noisy-neighbor-who-always-has-too]

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Motherfuckin’ Starboy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

I was late.

I had barely slept through the night. My mind was preoccupied thinking about Harry, stuck between acute embarrassment and intense desire. There was a constant back and forth in my brain where I’d see the lustful way Harry had eyed me for sixty minutes straight and then my vision would swim and I’d be back on the studio floor, concerned faces surrounding me. I couldn’t believe I had fucking fainted. There was no doubt I would have gotten laid, probably had some of the best sex of my life, last night had I not passed out. Harry all but confirmed it as he left me in the locker room, admitting that he enjoyed watching me. Had I not been a complete idiot and hydrated better, I wouldn’t have been in the showers alone after class.

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After giving his twin sister a hug, Ethan directed his attention to Charles and asked him a little about himself, “So you’re in the same classes as Chloe?”

“Yeah, we have pretty much all the same classes. We started at the same time.”

“That’s cool. Are you planning on being a teacher, too, then?”

“Mmhmm, that’s the plan. What do you do?”

“My brother has his own computer company,” Chloe interjected. “He does special, secret projects for high profile clients.”

“Oh, sweet. Like corporate espionage?”

“Something like that. It’s not as exciting as she’s making it sound. Mostly I just sit on my ass in front of the computer all day.”

“Don’t curse in front of Finn, Ethan.”

“Sorry,” he replied, giving her an apologetic look. “I forgot he was there.”

“I hope you don’t talk like that in front of him all the time. He’ll start to pick it up after awhile.”

“Oh, sorry, sis. If only you had warned me sooner, I usually use my worst language the entire time we’re together.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so,” he said, smirking. “And as much as I would like to continue to dazzle you with my wit, I have to go. But I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay, bro. Talk to you later.”

“It was nice to meet you, Charles.”

“You, too.”


Reveal (Request)

You’re a famous too and you & Harry try to keep your relationship a secret but one by one the boys find out. But they don’t tell you they know, they try to get it out of you instead. Like Monica & Chandler on Friends when the others find out!

Harry is in a relationship with y/n who is also a famous singer. They keep the relationship secret because of fans upset and management etc. They both attend the Brits and y/n performs a song she’s written, Secret Love Song (I know it’s by little mix, but for the benefit of this its y/n’s) During the song she starts crying on stage and looking at Harry. Making it obvious they are together, so it’s all over the front pages the next day, but has a positive response from fans

This is kind of the “Part 2″ of Relations, which I wrote earlier this week. I’m actually super happy with this story and how it came together. It’s a bit long, but I think it’s worth it. I hope you all like it too!


Your manager chose not to torture you again after that particular evening. You were never forced to hang out with Harry at any kind of event, which honestly bummed you out a little bit. After Harry had kissed you in the hotel hallway, the two of you had started chatting via text pretty regularly. He wasn’t always close by, but he always made an effort to send you a quick hello or ask how your day was going.

It started out as a friendship; it was what both of you thought was the safest, most reasonable option. Obviously, he had kissed you for a reason and that reason kind of went beyond the borders of it being simply a platonic relationship. But you had also only met each other the one time and that wasn’t enough to move to another level just yet. Maybe if you lived in the same place for longer than a couple of weeks at a time, you could have made something work. But, for now, you were friends who were getting to know each other and you were both enjoying that stage immensely.

You had never met anyone who seemed so invested in your interests and life than Harry did. Even when you knew he was busy, he would still take time to ask you questions about your life; your family, where you grew up, your hobbies, your music, even simple things like your favorite flower or the kind of tea you liked to drink.

About six months later, you came home from a long day at the studio to find a huge bouquet of flowers – your favorite type – on your doorstep with a note attached. When you picked it up, your face broke into a wide grin.


I hope you like the flowers. You were right; they are really pretty. Still think you have them beat, though. I’m around this week and would love to see you. Give me a call.


Despite your best efforts, you felt your face start to flush immediately. Harry’s words always had that effect on you. You’d by lying if you said you didn’t get butterflies every time you saw that he had sent you a text.

You had met up with Harry that evening, opting to hang out at his apartment as to avoid any unwanted paparazzi and gawking. It felt as though you had been best friends for years, your conversations were so seamless and comfortable. You found yourself sipping a glass of wine while sitting on his couch, legs sprawled over his lap while you laughed at his 15th stupid joke of the night. By the time you realized it was well past midnight, you were both a little tipsy and a little sleepy.

“I should go.” You said, needing to hold on to the wall to steady yourself as you stood up.

“You’re not gonna drive, are you?” Harry asked.

You had driven to his house, but you knew you couldn’t drive home with the amount of wine you had consumed. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far away and could walk home and pick up your car the next day.

“Stay.” He requested, putting a hand on your arm. “I have lots of space.”

You were hesitant, but he was looking at you so poignantly that you couldn’t say no. He didn’t want you to walk home alone at this time of night, especially not when you were slightly drunk.

He made up his spare bedroom for you and, while it was lovely and comfortable, you couldn’t fall asleep knowing that he was only down the hall in his own bed. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the ease of your friendship and how he made you feel, or maybe you were just constantly harking back to your hotel kiss six months earlier, but all you wanted to do was wander into his room and curl up next to him. It had nothing to do with sex at this point, you just wanted to be near him.

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hello my friends :))) i’m moose it’s nice 2 meet u all and to be here !! if u couldn’t already tell from my name i live in canada and i’m in the cst timezone !! this is gigi she’s a lil babe and i don’t have her entirely 100% figured out yet but !! i hope u like her anyway ok. i’d love to plot with all of you so come hmu or just like this and i’ll come to you !! I also am mobile currently so this might look shitty but u kno

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Creepypasta #944: Selected Reviews Of The City's Hottest New Restaurant, The Teratoma Lounge

Length: Short

Username: patrickpratt76
Rating: ✰✰✰✰

Comments: Took a high-profile client here for lunch. We’d both heard of its popularity, and were lucky to get a table. Lots of locals. Food was outstanding, even though initially they got mine wrong. 

When I called out, “Waiter! There’s a human fetus in my soup!” our waiter apologized and quickly brought me the bowl of baby teeth and wild mushroom carbonera I’d ordered. However, I saw him later, standing in the kitchen, slurping the fetus out of the tepid soup like a vulture eviscerating a dying horse. Very unprofessional. Deducting a star because of that. Great experience otherwise. Can’t wait to try the pimento-stuffed eyeballs next time.

Username: 3kids2dogs
Rating: ✰

Comments: i brought my granchildren here. waitriss kept making jokes about eating the kids.owner wouldnt stop staring at them. PLACENTA CAKE (???) was underbaked and sticky. ruined grandaughters birthday. never coming back TOO EXPENSIVE!!!

Username: godisgreat88
Rating: ✰✰

Comments: My husband I are always excited to try new locally-owned restaurants. When we heard about The Teratoma Lounge serving surplus human meat, we thought it was admirable that a business was being eco-friendly by harvesting corpses left over after the bombing! We think it’s irresponsible and wasteful to be eating animals in wartime when there’s plenty of unused protein going to waste, especially with all those unsightly bodies piling up at the desert’s edge. Eat fresh and local, we believe!

However, this restaurant has taken an ingenious concept, and produced something lackluster and uninspired. Our appetizer platter of panko-breaded tongue kebabs were delicious (the snack that tastes you back! our waiter joked). But my husband’s dish, a still-beating heart in earwax gremolata sauce, was a major letdown, as it stopped throbbing before he finished. He was so disappointed. Additionally, my knuckle sandwich on an artisanal crisped-epidermis roll with sweet marrow aioli was too soggy to convince me there were authentic knuckle bones in there. Not worth $75.

Overall, a good vibe, but unfortunately the execution needs some work.

Username: ilovethemoon1969
Rating: ✰✰✰

Comments: Decent food, but the owner is a little weird. Seems to have too many teeth for his mouth, and his knees bend backward when he walks, joints creaking like the croaking of a toad.

He was very attentive and welcoming, though! He brought us a complimentary dessert of crunchy caramelized toenails, a delectable surprise after our (somewhat ho-hum) meal of soft umbilical cord noodles with steamed quinoa and blackened lung vinaigrette.

Username: stopwarsCCC
Rating: ✰✰✰

Comments: Drove over from California on my solo road trip to view the bomb’s fallout. Although the food is innovative and enjoyable, I’m not sure how I feel about the wealthy eating the putrefying remains of millions of dead peasants. It just feels a little callous, no matter how trendy and pleasingly presented the dishes are.

But- I must admit that the bar is a very relaxing place to people-watch. Drinks were worth the trip itself. Highly recommend the Bloody Mary.

Credits to: cold__cocoon

The Light Blue Mug

for @malignedaffairs who I understand has been feeling a little under the weather - I hope this helps you feel a bit better.

ItaShi fluff/drabble - Modern AU - loosely based on something that happened in my life a few years ago haha

Itachi was livid.

The corded muscles of his neck tensed. His joints stiffened and the hand gripping the handle of his briefcase squeezed so hard the Italian leather creaked. His breath shot through his nostrils in short sharp puffs, causing them to minutely flare. His insidious glare fixated on the item before him. The source of his anger. Irritation. Indignation. Rage.

Itachi was perhaps overreacting to the scene when considered out of context. He had had a difficult week at work, he had not been able to get home for several days and had to resort to sleeping on his office couch. His law firm was pushing him hard on a high-profile client’s case which was due in court next week. His suit was hot and uncomfortable. His shoes were hurting the balls of his feet from pacing his office. The briefcase was heavy with late night paperwork and case files. His usually pristine hair was mildly riled with stray wisps framing his angular face. He needed a decent cup of tea and perhaps a digestive biscuit before flopping into the plush living room couch.

A cup of tea.


That was all.

However, a cup of tea required a mug. A big beautiful bone china porcelain mug in light blue to be exact. But said mug was buried. Buried beneath the pile of dirty dishes that Shisui had sworn, sworn, would be clean and put away by today. This time he had promised he would do it. They’d had the conversation too many times to count about Shisui’s cooking habits and Itachi’s need for cleanliness, especially when stressed.

The putrid mugs, bowls, plates and dishes were stacked over the rim of the sink, their surfaces splattered in various concoctions of Shisui’s habits. Evidence of cold instant noodles, dried tomato sauce, congealed coffee and crusty hardened cereal decorated the porcelain. The white surfaces, usually spotless, were covered in drips and drops from the stove, kettle and sink. Various colours were smeared down the cabinet faces in a mocking rainbow whilst a pan still sat half full on the hob. Itachi didn’t even dare glance at the bin for fear of a full-blown brain haemorrhage.

Sucking in a deep breath, something in Itachi snapped. He pointedly put down his briefcase, shucked off his suit jacket and flung it over a kitchen chair unceremoniously. He marched into the kitchenette, ripped open a cupboard door and pulled the bin bags from their shelf where they were neatly stowed – labelled, of course, because Itachi was like that. He purposefully pulled out the roll and ripped along the perforated seam to release a single flimsy plastic bag from the packaging. Itachi callously flung the rest of the bin bag roll onto a vacant kitchen surface, wafted open the bag in his hand and then turned menacingly to the sink.

Devoid of pomp or circumstance, Itachi began to viciously pull apart Mount Shisui in all of it’s rancid glory. He flung every piece he plucked from the pile into the bag, not caring for the residue that sprayed onto his white shirt or trousers. One by one he tossed all the crockery, cookware and glasses into the bag suspended from his left hand. Once finished at the sink he turned to the oven and proceeded to chuck all the soiled utensils, discarded wrappers and remaining crockery into the bag as well.

Once all the offending paraphernalia was in the bag he dropped it with a resounding crash onto the tiled floor, which echoed through the house. He returned to the original cupboard where the bin bags had been stored; just along the shelf, neatly piled and labelled in individual boxes were the cleaning products. He grabbed a few bleach sprays and dish clothes before setting about wiping down all of the surfaces with mechanical efficiency and an air of vengeance. The wholetime reciting the lecture and dressing down he was going to give his long-term lover when he finally returned to their home.

Throwing the cleaning bottle and cloths into the black bag at his feet, Itachi grasped the yellow string drawstring tight and sealed the bag and all of it’s offending contents tightly together. He hoisted it into the air away from his body to avoid further contamination and spun towards the door to expel the waste.

He stopped in his tracks. His body still rigid and the black bag hanging ceremoniously at his side. Itachi’s eyes fixed on the figure in the doorway. His cold piercing stare connecting with matching black irises framed by an equally dishevelled mane as his own.

Shisui was stood just over the threshold of the doorway to the kitchen. There were large bags under his eyes, his mop of curls was even more unruly than usual and his police uniform was stained and creased. Itachi couldn’t help but notice that a number of the buttons were incorrectly paired 

What stopped Itachi however, was the large bouquet of flowers Shisui held aloft and forward. Like a soldier may hold a shield up against an ongoing attack or an umbrella against an incoming storm. The mixed bright colours of the flower heads were comical in the tense and overbearing atmosphere of the kitchen. Itachi eyed them suspiciously before flicking his gaze back to Shisui’s tired face. He felt a small stirring of concern in his belly for the other man. Shisui had clearly been working overtime and he began to feel the creeping tendrils of sheepishness for his outburst.

‘I know you’re mad,’ blurted Shisui, not lowering the flowers, his last line of defence it would seem, ‘And you are right to be. I was real lazy whilst you were away – I didn’t even get dressed on my day off earlier this week.’

Itachi raised an enquiring eyebrow at him but said nothing.

Shisui cleared his throat, ‘Then two days ago I got a call. There was a major crime on my beat. Everyone got called in overtime right then and there. I’ve only been home once to pick up a new shirt and I didn’t have time to clear up the kitchen. I’m really sorry – I knew you’d be home today and….’ He trailed off and straightened himself looking down at the flowers in his hands, ‘…I’m sorry, ‘Chi… you’ve been working so hard and I can’t even do the dishes right, but I’ll try and make it up to ya,’ he glances over to Itachi.

Itachi’s shoulders have slumped and a weary expression has come over his face. He is gazing at Shisui with a mixture of exasperation and concern. He steps over to Shisui and takes the flowers in his free hand, letting his eyes trail over their beautiful colours – a selection of his favourites. He lets out a heavy sigh and looks back at Shisui who is watching him with a worried expression and then Itachi lets a small smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. Shisui’s face cracks in his trademark grin which instantly melts the insides of Itachi’s stomach, much to Itachi’s irritation - so much for the lecture he’d planned.

‘Thank you for the flowers,’ he says measuredly, ‘I appreciate the gesture and I understand that you’ve been busy at work too.’

Shisui tentatively leans in and places a lingering kiss in the corner of Itachi’s mouth. ‘Say, why don’t we have a bath,’ Shisui quietly suggests against his cheek, ‘hot water and lots of bubbles – you look shattered.’

Itachi lets his eyes slip shut and mutters a ‘hn,’ in agreement. He suddenly steps away from Shisui and pushes the black bag he had been holding into his chest, ‘take that to the big bin outside whilst I put these in water, then we’ll draw a bath.’

Shisui nods and takes the bag from Itachi, instantly yelping at the weight of said carrier once it is released to him, ‘what did you put in the bag!? Is this the bin!?’ he sputters.

‘The dishes,’ Itachi calmly answers and glides over to the clean kitchen to retrieve a vase for the flowers.

Shisui stands perplexed, his stare finally taking in the gleaming kitchen before him ‘what?’ is all he manages as his eyes widen and then land back on Itachi as he begins to methodically cut the stems, ‘Bloody hell, did you ju- ‘

‘Bin. Outside. Shisui. Now.’ Itachi states allowing no room for negotiation and not turning to face Shisui.

Shisui swallows and nods, hoisting the bag up in front of him and listening to it clink and scrape.

 A few hours later, Shisui is happily curled up in the king size bed and Egyptian cotton sheets he shares with Itachi. His limbs are warm and relaxed from his long bath, his boneless state is due to more illicit activities that followed said bath. His right arm is sprawled out over Itachi’s chest which is bare and exposed in the iridescent moonlight from their open window. A satisfied and happy grin covers his face and he tightens his arm to pull the other man into his chest. Shisui buries his face into the crook of Itachi’s neck and inhales his earthy scent deeply, revelling in the soft feel of skin again skin and soft sheets.

Itachi grumbles at being disturbed and adjusts himself to feel more comfortable pressed against Shisui’s chest. As he settles again he hears Shisui murmer, ‘You OK, ‘Chi?’

He gives a non-commital, ‘hn,’ before pulling his head back to look at Shisui’s face, ‘water,’ he croaks.

Shisui gives a nod and a grin, leans into press a tender kiss to Itachi’s lips before pulling himself out of the bed. He stretches and turns back to see Itachi bury his face into Shisui’s pillow.

Shisui grins and walks casually yawning through their home to the kitchen. He flicks on the light, not caring for his undressed state and opens the cupboard for the glassware 

He pauses. Squeezing his eyes and opening them again before a frown settles on his face. The cupboard is bare.

Bare except for a single, pristinely clean light blue bone china mug which sits primly in the centre of the shelf.

&& @youcanthelpme

High profile clients tended to require a lot more work than most people thought, and while he’d worked on a number of teams that had been assigned to high profile clients he’d yet to really work on one on his own. Until the folder came across his desk. The client didn’t need a whole team, they needed one, and someone who could provide protection to someone who walked on the wild side. Steve knew his military background would come in handy but he hadn’t thought it would be working for someone who had once been in the White House. He’d thought about saying no, he’d thought about turning it down except if he did that he was certain a chance like this wouldn’t come around again.

Which was why he’d accepted the job, why he went to the address in the file and why he was currently standing in a living room larger than the one in his own apartment. He wasn’t certain just what it was he’d gotten himself into but their company only handled certain type of clients and if the file had landed on his desk the client was of the type that his company normally handled. It didn’t stop the nerves. Steve hadn’t been given the whole details; just enough for him to know whether or not to accept it. And now that he was there? All he could do was scan the room, look for any sort of weak spots and wait to meet his client. Once he finally did meet him he could put together some sort of plan that just might keep his client alive. If that’s what they wanted him for.

anonymous asked:

cass... what do u know...

- that louis was rumoured to have bought a house on december 4th worth $10M

- that it’s in between malibu and calabasas 

- that malibu and calabasas is where H&L have been spending a lot of their time

- that it’s big enough to house A LOT of people because it has 2 guest houses

- that liam was staying there

- that it was sold by julians mum to a real estate agent who looks after discreet sales for high profile people… Sony music clients in particular. and it’s discreet enough that you can’t see who purchases said real estate

- that Variety leaked this information NOW after some of us had known for months

- that it was leaked just as the stories of Paul McKennas house is back on the market for lease

- that things have always been suss and theres always been a plan in motion but we’re only seeing this stuff now


Alexandre de Paris was a renowned French coiffeur. One of his most famous creations was Elizabeth Taylor’s iconic hair in the Hollywood epic Cleopatra.

Among his other claims to fame were the creation of the chignon as a hair art form, devising twists on the classic style – he added diamonds to Jackie Kennedy’s chignon during a state visit to France in 1961.

Other high-profile clients during Alexandre’s illustrious career included King Hassan ll and the Queen of Jordan; Audrey Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, Shirley MacLaine and Sophia Loren.

The Aftermath of Hiddleswift

Swifties, don’t even bother.

Let me begin by saying that I don’t give a fuck about Taylor Swift. I like some of her music, I roll my eyes at her gym pictures and her #squad, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s only doing what she’s been doing for years now: using a very publicized fake romance for ulterior motives. Nothing new there. I hope someday she can find someone and have something real, because all the money and trophies in the world can be very cold if you’re not happy in your heart.

When it comes to Tom Hiddleston, however, you might have guessed that I do have some more expansive thoughts.

First – everything that some of the more enlightened in the fandom (yes, I include myself in that group) said would happen, actually happened. She does 90 day contracts? Boom, things ended at roughly 90 days, since most of us don’t know what day the contract was actually signed. She’s throwing him under the bus? Yep, the narrative of him using her for fame is out there, big time. Now, he DID actually use her for fame, because there is no doubt of that. Sorry, but there is no doubt of that.


And that was the biggest shock that most of us felt when we saw those Rhode Island pics and the subsequent, cringe-worthy, repulsive displays that turned Tom Hiddleston from Bae to Barf. The shock was that out of all the up-and-coming actors that might do something like this, Tom was way down at the list. Like, way down. We could not imagine our earnest, silly, hardworking, private Tom agreeing to be arm candy for a greedy, lawsuit happy, tween fashionista mean girl like Taylor.

It was like three thousand times the shock of seeing Henry Cavill grocery shopping with Kaley Cuoco.

The second biggest shock was the timing – Tom was at the top of his game in May, the highest public profile he’d ever had thanks to The Night Manager, rumors of being cast as James Bond, the upcoming Ragnarok movie. He’d been building, slowly and steadily, a solid CV full of work that showcased his versatility and proved he had the chops to take on comic book villains and American music legends, morose vampires and contemporary spies, and excel at all of them.


Tom and Taylor met – allegedly – at Anna Wintour’s dinner before the Met Ball. They’re seen saying goodbye as they leave and saying things like ‘nice to meet you’. I fully believe that the dancing video from the Ball was the test before the contract, testing the waters to see if the public would accept the odd pairing. The public thought it was cute for what it was and the contract was on.

I wonder if Tom, finding out about his Emmy nomination – his highest profile award nomination to date – thought, ‘fuck, I didn’t need to sign this shit’ but at that point it was too late. He’d agreed to hold hands and kiss in public with Taylor, and he had long weeks ahead.


Many fans, myself included, point to the beach walks by Tom’s mom’s house as the moment they became grossed out by this. It’s one thing to degrade himself by being One More Notch on Taylor’s sparkly pink belt, but to bring out his mother, who had been seen in public a handful of times? What was that conversation like, I wonder? “Mum, I know I’ve always come here to hide out from the world and I’ve always kept you and the family private, but I’m prostituting myself out with Taylor Swift to make my name bigger in the US, would you very much mind joining us for a pre-planned, pap-filled walk in which you have to put your arms around both me and my fake girlfriend and smile like you are not thoroughly disgusted by your son’s famewhoring ways?”

Then came the walk with the little niece. The one the entire fandom awwwww’d at when he revealed she called him “Uncle Yay Monster”. Anything was fair game for Tom, then, selling out his mother, his niece. He prized fame more than the dignity and privacy of his nearest and dearest.

For the niece, however, I also blame the child’s mother, because I don’t care how much my actor brother begs and whines, there is no fucking way on this fucking earth I am joining him and his girlfriend out in public or letting my little child be used as a fucking prop as other fake boyfriends’ small relatives have been used before. Fuck you, Sarah Hiddleston. I hope Tom has paid for your child’s education, at least, if you chose to pimp out your daughter like that.

I also wonder how Tom and his mum have been getting along since. Has the shine dulled for her, too? Does she see him differently now? Does she wonder at ulterior motives every time he starts a conversation? What about his father, the man who never wanted Tom to be an actor because he had a good education, the man who wanted Tom to be “his own man” – what did HE think when he saw pictures of his son frolicking with the squad on Fourth of July, wearing a tank top emblazoned with I HEART TS and an arm tattoo to match? Was this just about every nightmare scenario Papa Hiddleston had envisioned? His son discarding education and hard work to whore himself for fame?

This was exactly the disappointment we felt every time a new set of carefully curated and staged pictures was released – we had considered Tom to be someone with integrity in a sea of mediocre, fame hungry Casualty and Home and Away alumni, above the masses of actors who would go from party to party ready to stick their heads in the frame for a shot of them with someone famous, having more dignity than the thousands perpetually seeking photo ops with A-Listers.

And suddenly there he was, doing things that were so out of character for him like going to a Selena Gomez concert, standing just in the right spot so that the paparazzi in Rome could capture his pic mashing lips with Taylor, when standing five feet either way would have concealed them from view. And he knew it, too, all those pics with the crazy eyed look of a person trapped in a hell of his own doing while the boss holding his hand smirks away.

While Taylor has had a pretty shitty summer with Kimye and press everywhere rolling their eyes at her latest stunt, I fully believe she will be just fine. In a few weeks there will be a new The One, a new album, a new set of squad pics and she will go on.

As much damage as Taylor’s image took this summer, it is Tom who has sustained far more critical hits, and continues to take punches because as we all know, the break up is only the set up for the next album, the starting point for the continuation of the theme of The Innocent, Saintly Girl who keeps falling for Users and Manipulators, Players and Heartbreakers. And then turns around and makes money off them.


Never, ever, EVER do something like this again – some think that the paparazzi shots of him and Elizabeth Olsen were his previous failed attempt at publicity via romance. Do not tarnish your personal life with your quest for A-List status. You were on your way just a few months ago.

Do as you once said and focus on the work. And by work I also mean everything that comes out of your fucking mouth, Tom. Don’t lie during interviews about how busy you are and how you have to get back to filming right away and then linger around for days doing nothing but going out to dinner and posing for pap walks. Your credibility has taken a huge hit and people will gauge your level of penitence every time you say something. Continue to lie and you will take that much longer to get your fans’ goodwill back, not to mention studios will start to question your work ethic.

Theater would be brilliant. You have always excelled when you’ve done stage work, get back to it. Ideally Shakespeare. Iago would be great, an all out villain. Speaking of villains, why not turn your sights on playing a Bond villain? If Craig goes for two more Bond films, your role can be revitalizing during his tenure; if it’s a new guy playing Bond, then the film is yours for the taking.

Go away. I mean that in the nicest way. Don’t do any more photoshoots or interviews, that last one was painful with the weird white underwear and the cheap production feel. Every article written about you in the next year or two will probably invoke Taylor. She will probably be brought up during the Ragnarok press tour, if not by the interviewer then by your castmates. I’m looking at you, RDJ.

You know what? You deserve it, Tom.

You deserve it for muddying what was a bright, crystal clear trajectory, for splintering what was a solid reputation, and for your sheer stupidity and that of your team. Speaking of, fire Luke. Right now. Stop reading and go fire him. I know he’s your friend, I know he’s been with you since the beginning, but Luke Windsor has proved that he cannot be relied on to do the necessary due diligence before damning his client to a PR nightmare, and that he doesn’t have the chops, balls, cojones, guts, whatever you want to call it, to fight a PR battle and save one of his most high profile clients from complete humiliation in the worldwide press.

Even if you chose this and Luke was against it – which many state but I disagree with, I believe this was 100% PR driven – he was still your PR. His JOB is to make you look good. For every story Taylor’s PR put out there, there should have been a counter from your camp. And there wasn’t. And still isn’t. Luke Windsor is simply not up to the task. He let you burn.

Speaking of burn, please take care of your skin. Between all the Majorca and Egypt locations you’ve been doing and your slowly receding hairline, you’ve aged roughly twenty years in the last three months.


The haters and bullies have always been haters and bullies. CuntWinchester and WhoraSalami are two of the worst human beings in this fandom, and that comes from me, who regularly staged vivisections on bad fic writers. Those two are iconic for their hatred and guess what, they were assholes before this happened, too! They will continue to be mediocre assholes after as well.

Milquetoasts like CatedeValois, who never say anything controversial because Lord forbid they have an opinion? Yep, she was the same before. She will be the same after.

I had just started to read a Dom!Tom series when this mess started and honestly, the thought of Tom Hiddleston – you know, the one in the I Heart TS tank top, the one holding hands with Taylor while she held hands with one of the squad, the one being led around like a dog all summer – as a Dominant simply made me laugh. The man proved that this summer at least, he had neither the self-respect, nor the dignity or strength to be his own man, let alone be a proper Dominant for someone else. The thought of Tom Hiddleston being a man is still iffy right now.

As for those waving the jealousy card, go fuck yourselves. I’d love for Tom to be with someone like Hayley Atwell or Jessica Chastain or Elizabeth Debicki. They seem like nice women with real talent. The first two, at least, have carried on long term relationships without any public bullshit. They haven’t made a career out of mutilating others in uber public ways. Maybe jealousy is the way you make every choice in your lives, but it sure isn’t mine, and it sure isn’t the way of many in this fandom. It wasn’t jealousy. It was shock. Disgust. Nausea. Sadness. Many things except jealousy.

I will be watching how the rest of the year goes for Tom, how he conducts himself, how the press treats him. He can get back to where he was in May – hell, he can be the A-Lister, Oscar winning, beloved thespian he aims to be. I believe he has it in him. But only if he tamps down his thirst for quick fame. It nearly ruined him this summer, let’s hope he has learned his lesson.

At work sipping tea...

My boss is a celebrity makeup artist and so she has very high profile clients. She’s talking to some older women about how she has a client that was dating a real estate agent. And she said she wouldn’t marry him until his net income was more than $1 million. Well eventually it happened and they got married.
The women my boss is talking to start laughing. And my boss goes “and she told me later that the only reason she married him was because she didn’t want to pay her rent anymore”.
One of the women look at me and go “what ever happened to ‘in sickness and in health’”
I casually sip my tea…🐸☕️

Tell Me You’re Mine

Summary: In the downtown suburbs of Seoul is a famous club where men go at night to relax and enjoy the finer things in life. Its name is Heaven on Earth, and as Youngbae soon finds out, it is indeed where Angels are found.
But not all Angels are free for the choosing…

Type: Dark, Heavy on the smut, fluff and Angst. (But extra on the smut)

Trailer: Tell Me You’re Mine


Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real life people, or intentions of those people, that the characters are based on.  This chapter contains mature themes, including suggestions of forced, unconsented sexual activity - Do Not Read if you feel as though this will affect you negatively. I have tried to keep everything as tame as possible, and not once do i mention the word for forced sexual activity itself, however, it is implied (although not described- simply suggested in minor detail.)

Part 5

Saturday came around too fast.

After staying at Mino’s apartment for the next few nights, too scared to go back to your own place and face Jiyong, and too nervous about the prospect of going anywhere with Youngbae that Jiyong might find out about, you’d come to the conclusion that even though Jiyong said he wouldn’t let Seungri touch you whilst he had his birthday party…with the way you’d run out on him, he would probably forget about his promise.

When Youngbae had shown up the night you’d run back to the club to get away from Jiyong and his caring side, you’d ended up getting pretty upset with him, hating the fact that he cared so much about you- and that you were happy that he did- and simply just cursing yourself for getting involved with him in the first place.

‘Who was that guy?’

You stare at him, feeling the tension roll off of Mino on the other side of the bar as he prepared to tell Youngbae to take a hike should he get too forceful with you, but you just give him a look that told him you were okay before watching him walk a little ways away, still keeping his eyes glued to Youngbae.

He slides onto the bar stool next to yours as you try to compose yourself, not bothering to remove your hood since there were still a few customers dotted around that would definitely recognise you, and not wanting to deal with having to refuse any angry, drunk men in that moment.When he turns to look at you, you look away, taking a sip of your drink and proceeding to stare at your glass as you wait to see if he’ll say anything else, not wanting to say anything to him about Jiyong if you can help it.

'Okay….how about…why did you get so panicked when you got told he was there?’ he asks, cutting through the silence between the two of you and you grit your teeth as you remember the way you’d walked out on Youngbae, the fact that the thought of his saddened face bothered you making you grimace with the memory.

'He’s a high-profile client.’ is all you say in answer, leaning back in your chair to make it appear like a blasé comment despite the way your hand that was holding your glass shakes the tiniest bit.

'So, is it only high-profile clients that are allowed to take you out of the club?’

There it was.

The real reason he was so bothered about you leaving with Jiyong.

Keep reading

Me & Some Zayn Mysteries

Now that I’m a few hours removed from Fallon and Zayn’s lovely falsetto, there are a few things that I’m wondering from a business decisiony standpoint that strike me as not just odd, but borderline sabotage-y (this is long, so I’ll put some of it under the cut).

1) PillowTalk has spent exactly two weeks on the charts. While the fact that it fell from #1 to #7 on the US charts isn’t all that alarming (and is natural a lot of times for a lot of singles), who’s decision was it for a debut artist  to perform a completely different song that wasn’t immediately available for purchase,  digital streaming, or pre-order? For fuck’s sake, Zayn performed a song to an audience of millions of people last night that the general public wouldn’t be able to find after the broadcast. That’s a majorly wasted sales & exposure opportunity for a new artist. 

2) What the fucking fucksticks is happening with Zayn’s cancelled interviews. Once is understandable, twice is curious, three times is fucky. Let’s just say if I was trying to make a tiny, rosey haired puppy child look unreliable,  that would be an A+ way to start ( i should also make it clear that I don’t at all think it’s Zayn himself who’s  the reason these interviews are getting cancelled).

Keep reading



Future Büro is an independent digital creative studio founded in 2008 by Chris Gillespie and Noel Wilson, based in Sydney, Australia. The company is comprised of a diverse range of multi-skilled, open-minded individuals who share a passion for the world of digital and the role it plays in our lives. Future Büro prides themselves on their professional approach and the quality of the resulting work.


Future Büro is a digital creative studio based in Sydney, Australia, that works with a number of advertising agencies to build sites and products for high-profile clients such as Red Bull, Coca-Cola, Amatil, and Virgin Mobile.


Viral campaigns created traffic spikes other hosts couldn’t withstand, and the Australian team was up at all hours making sure their American clients’ sites stayed up.


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The company can focus on building great sites and products without worrying whether campaign success will cause crashes. Staff can also take vacations and sleep without fear that a client’s site is down.

Bucky Barnes Imagine #3 - Look Again


“Bucky wanting to reveal his feelings to you however, due to what he did when he was the Winter Soldier, he thinks there’s no chance in you wanting him. Steve sees this and tries to convince Bucky otherwise.”

Steve walked into Bucky’s room with a tall glass of cold milk and a plate stacked high with sandwiches. It had been a while since he had gotten the chance to simply sit down with his old pal and reminisce over the old times. Not the bad times, of course, but the good times. The times where they both would muse over the various wonders of the world and see how they would fit in it. Steve chuckled to himself as he figured decades later and they’re both still pondering over the same questions.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, raising the plate and glass to show Bucky he brought offerings.

“Hey,” Bucky answered, with a smile, putting his book down.

Steve’s eyebrows rose up at his action. A smile was something that he hadn’t seen much from his long-lost friend recently which is why he refused to draw attention to it. He didn’t want to be the cause for Bucky to experience another sleepless night again.

“Weren’t you supposed to be in Berlin?”  Bucky asked, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Yeah, but Natasha took my place instead.” Steve explained as he set the glass of milk by the night stand and the plate softly on the bed. “Wanted to make it into a girls’ night out type of thing.” He added with a shrug. “Sandwich?” He offered, lifting the plate towards Bucky.


As they both ate in the gentle silence, Steve looked around the room. It had changed quite a bit since he last entered it. It was no longer clinical for one. When Bucky had first gotten the place, he had chosen to keep it bare. Only the essentials had been added to the room. A computer desk, a bed, a bookshelf along with a small closet. The walls had been devoid of any personal collections, being painted a pure white. Steve had pointed this out to Natasha but she had merely commented in allowing Bucky to acclimatize himself to his new scenario. He had been brainwashed and wiped clean of all his memories for years. To be able to have the chance to be himself, to recreate himself out of his own volition and form his own wishes and desires without being influenced by nefarious influences… all of that will take time.

“Steve?” Steve flinched as Bucky snapped his fingers in front of him. “Where’d you go?” Bucky asked, chuckling.

Steve shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked down. Bucky was already on his second sandwich while Steve didn’t even have the chance to eat one yet.

With a pout, he remarked, “You’re finishing all my sandwiches.”

“Well, that’s what you’re going to get if you keep zoning out like that.” Bucky teased before taking another bite. “So, where’d you go?”

“Nowhere, I was just,” Steve gestured vaguely to the room, “looking at the room. It’s looking nice.”

Steve noted the faint pink blush that coated Bucky’s cheeks. The hint of a soft, knowing smile that held secrets that Bucky kept to himself.

“Yeah, it’s mostly because of (Y/N),” He explained. His lips twitched as they grew into a grin, “She’s been coming in here and doing her stuff.”

“Stuff?” Steve asked, his brows raised and finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, she’s been bringing me back these little trinkets from wherever she goes. Missions, vacations, local spots, wherever.” Bucky explained. He got out from the bed and walked over to the vanity where a small golden box sat. Removing the silver bowed lid, he walked back to the bed and showed Steve what was hidden inside. “This,” Bucky held up a conch shell, “she got when she was in Rio. In fact, most of these are from there. She went to so many beaches and just kept collecting all these shells and rocks. If it weren’t for our private jets, I doubt she would have been allowed to bring back any of these. This,” He lightly touched the soft material of the peacock feather that was jutting out of the book he was reading, “she got that back from India. She was so excited to see real live peacocks just roaming around. She would get up early every morning she was there and go to this local park just to see them. The first day she went she didn’t get to see one up close. But she was ecstatic just to hear them. She then made it a ritual to go there every morning and she got close enough to one to actually pet it.” Bucky narrated, his eyes shining. “These little wooden elephants,” Bucky said, getting out of bed and towards the bookshelf. “These she said, brought specially for me. They’re apparently supposed to bring good luck.” He picked one up and touched it lightly, as if his luck might run out if he held onto it too tightly.”

“She brings you a lot of things.” Steve remarked.

“Yeah,” Bucky put the elephant back. “She did it a lot when I first came to the tower. Not immediately of course,” He defended. “But after…” Bucky trailed off with a sigh.

“When you went on your first mission?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. It was like she needed to know that I’m going to stay good this time. Which is weird,” He scrunched his face in confusion. “She wasn’t even with us for that mission.”

“No but she did get a minute by minute update thanks to Sam and Tony.”


“I’m assuming the walls have been decorated by her too?” Steve asked, pointing at the numerous pictures that were littering the walls directly above the headboard.

“As if she would let anyone else touch them. Once Clint tried to hang his bow here, you know, in case of emergencies, and she threw a major fit.” Bucky laughed, climbing back into bed. “She stole all of Clint’s bows and arrows and hid them all over the city. It took him nearly two weeks to get them all back again.”

“It was her?” Steve asked, surprised. He clearly remembers the horrendous days he had to spend in the blazing heat just to get Clint’s weapons back. Although they had ordered to get some more from him, he had been too stubborn to let go of them so easily. He had basically called anyone who wouldn’t help a traitor.

“And the best part is no one even knew. She had left with Maria that same day so Clint had never even imagined she could do something like that. It was the best thing ever!” Bucky said, laughing deeply.

“Are there any other mischievous deeds that I should know about?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“Well…” Bucky trailed, “Remember that one time Sam got super excited about meeting this really high-profiled client and he just wouldn’t shut up about it?”

“The one where he said he was offered to create a new generation of Falcons?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, laughing hard. “That one. He thought it was to train a new group of soldiers. These warriors who will look up to him and follow his every move. Turns out that (Y/N) had created a bunch of these e-mails and sent it to him.”

“But the deal was real, wasn’t it?” Steve asked, folding his legs underneath him.

“Oh yeah, but it wasn’t with a group of soldiers. It was a bunch of elementary kids that she had hand-selected to meet him.” Bucky fell onto the bed laughing so hard, tears were beginning to come out of his eyes. “It was the best thing ever! The kids were jumping at him from all around, puke got into his wings… it was glorious!”

Steve clutched his stomach as he began to laugh so hard himself. How the hell had he not known this much about (Y/N)? Did he really not spend enough time with her? How did Bucky of all people know all this? He barely ever saw them together.

“Wow!” Steve let out, staring at the ceiling and taking deep breaths to compose himself.

“She’s… amazing.” Bucky let out softly, getting lost in his thoughts now.

“Yeah, she is. How did I not know this about her?” He voiced.

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t like you.” He teased, poking Steve in the cheek.

“So you’re saying she likes you?” Steve teased back with a smirk.

He tilted his head back when he saw Bucky go quiet and withdraw.

“Do you like her?” Steve asked, taken aback with this new piece of information. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky was given how much they seem to have bonded.

Rather than replying, Bucky sat up straight, refusing to look Steve in the eye.

“Bucky?” Steve called out to his back, sitting up himself.

“There’s no point.” Bucky spoke sternly.

“To what?”

“Liking her.” He bit out. “Given who I am…”

“Who you were.” Steve corrected with a stern voice. “Who you were is not who you are right now.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that she will want to be with me.” Bucky interfered. “I mean, look at me.” He waved over to himself, his disheveled, gruff look, his metal arm, a standing testament to all the horrors he had committed. “Who would ever want to be with a monster like me?”

“If she thought of you a monster, do you really think she would be doing all of this?” Steve nudged his shoulder backwards, indicating all the little trinkets and signs of her life that were evident in the previously devoid room. “Any of this? I may not know her as well as you do, but I do know that if she had truly thought of you to be a monster, then she wouldn’t have come anywhere near you. Bucky,” Steve walked around to sit beside him, “you need to let go of your past. No one can change what you did but you can’t keep running from it. You can’t keep hiding here.” Steve looked around the room. “You can’t live your life through her. You need to start learning how to live it with her. With us.” He added in case Bucky was afraid to take the plunge directly with (Y/N).

A few minutes passed in silence before Bucky opened one of the drawers in the night stand and took out a small blue velvet box. He held it gingerly in his hands, twirling it around, mulling over a multitude of thoughts in his head. Steve watched him with observing eyes, hoping with a dear heart that his best friend will take the initiative to start living again. Thus far, he had only seen Bucky mingle in the public when it was required for missions. But as of late, even that has dwindled. He had stopped going on missions recently as it started to become overwhelming for him. Despite Steve’s formal orders, nobody would have thought to push Bucky beyond his limits. He supposes it was during this time that (Y/N) had started to come close to Bucky. To make him be connected with a life outside his four walls, to be able to still communicate and interact with people despite his attempts at being isolated.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he wondered if Bucky’s connection with (Y/N) was healthy. If (Y/N) was the only person that he actively communicated with, then surely he is bound to create a strong bond. He knew that (Y/N) wouldn’t do anything to hurt Bucky. Isolation would be a more acceptable option than ever hurting him. But that didn’t leave out Bucky hurting himself. He was hurting himself, Steve determined. Not just by withdrawing his emotions, but also by his isolation. Being lost in his books and his music and more dangerously, his mind. Steve knew that before he could suggest Bucky to progress his relationship with (Y/N), he first had to make sure Bucky had a whole and healthy mind. That he wasn’t simply latching onto (Y/N) because of an unconscious dependency that had been created.

“You want to give that to her?” Steve asked quietly, nudging his shoulder to his.

“Yeah.” Bucky admitted softly. Taking a deep breath, he put the box away. “Maybe when I’m ready.”

“You do know that you’re a good guy right?”

Bucky looked down at his fingers. “I doubt that.”

“You are.” Steve urged. “You need to stop thinking of yourself as a monster. The more you think of it, the more it’ll come true.”

Bucky smirked. “She said the same thing to me.”

A warm smile blossomed onto Steve’s lips. “Looks like we have another great mind in the house.”

“Just don’t go telling Stark that.”

Steve chuckled.

Quieting himself, “I’m serious Buck. Heal yourself. Stop living your life through these trinkets. Go out there and find yourself again.”

Bucky took a deep breath as if he was inhaling all of his problems, all of his insecurities and exhaled them all out slowly. As if on cue, Bucky’s phone rang with a very distinct ring tone. Steve smiled to himself knowing that it had to be the special lady who had managed to capture his best friend’s heart.

“Hey (Y/N),” Bucky said slowly, his voice depicting the apprehension he had with Steve being in the room.

Steve put his hands up in surrender just a shrill “Bucky!!” came through the speakers. He got up to pick up the empty plate and handed over the glass of milk to Bucky. Steve grinned as he saw Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement and become more animated than he had seen him all day. He took one last look at his friend and felt a small spark of hope ignite in his belly in knowing that there might be a gloriously bright future for Bucky yet.

He gently closed the door and left Bucky alone to the privacy of his sweet delights.