#and their flat nature makes it easier to just shove blueberries in

[shironi-pepperoni]

Some fruit should be hot!! 🍓♨️

[thesaltysocialworker]

Waking up in Vegas

Waking up in Vegas (Part 1 of 2)

Synopsis: You got a second chance at a career that you’d grown to love after your own failed attempts at fame; shadowing Luke Windsor as you learn the ropes of becoming an agent. But a trip to Las Vegas with Luke’s most famous client may ruin your dream career before it even gets off the ground. 

Warnings: Sex.

What was that all about?” Tom asked, his voice a bit quieter than normal, but also more forced. “I think Captain America was trying to get into my knickers.” 

“Behind every great man, there’s an even better woman.”

             You smiled gently as you set a tea tray on the edge of Luke Windsor’s desk. “I’m just glad to have you back from your world tour out in the wilds, running this place without you was absolutely insane.” You moved across the wood floor of the office and sat in the chair in front of the desk. You felt lucky to be there, training under one of the most successful agents and talent managers in the United Kingdom. While you may have dreamed of stardom for yourself in your younger years, now you wanted some stability and you’d become more practical as you’d aged. You’d scratched, crawled and fought to get where you were, and had hopes that someday you’d be the one setting behind the desk and not just a junior agent.

             “Premiere tours are insane and glorious all at the same time. However, my partner is not really pleased with me.” Luke refused to look at you as he scanned his e-mails. One of the things he hated and appreciated about you was your perceptiveness. You were hyper aware of the emotions of the people around you, of the very atmosphere in the room. Some may call you a control freak. “Trouble in paradise?” You asked, knowing that he was newly married and it’d taken him a lot to find his husband who would tolerate his crazy schedule, his travelling and his workaholic nature. “He threatened to go to his mother’s if I don’t cancel the Comic-con trip in Las Vegas. But it’s a new event, and I don’t dare let Tom go alone to new events. I need to get the lay of the land first.”

             You were practically bouncing in your seat, your hand gripping the arm of the chair tightly. You could see where Luke was trying to point you. “Stay home. I’ll go.” You shrugged like it was no big-deal. But it was a huge deal. It was a new event, it’d give you a chance to hob-knob with other agents and up-and-coming stars.  It’d be the jump-start you needed to fly solo someday! “Y/n, it’s your birthday. I can’t ask you to give up your birthday to escort Tom around Comic-Con Las Vegas. I know you have some level of disdain for that kind of stuff.” Luke laughed. “It’s not disdain! I’m just not huge into comic books. I’m more of a non-fiction sort of gal. Besides, I need to be able to represent anyone, right? Regardless of their work. Give me a chance, Luke. You won’t regret it. It could save your marriage.”

             Luke tapped his fingers on the desk, finally turning his attention away from the e-mails and back to you. “Alright, you’ve asked for it and you’ve certainly earned it. Get your passport ready and pack your bags, I’ll let Tom know you’re going with. He’ll be thrilled.” You wanted to secretly dance around Luke’s office to celebrate your victory, but you stopped when you heard the ‘he’ll be thrilled’ part. “What?” You asked, truly confused. You’d met Tom a handful of times at the office and followed he and Luke to a few different events as a job shadow. He’d been kind, taken note of the fact that you preferred blueberry muffins and chai-tea at the breakfast bar every morning (religiously) at a hotel and had brought you one pretty consistently when visiting the office. “He likes you. He thinks you have talent.” Luke shrugged.

             “Is he looking for a new agent?” You grinned, moving to your desk in the reception area. “Saucy wench.” Luke muttered, a soft laughter emitting from him as he sipped at his tea. When you made it to your desk and no one was looking until you did that dance, your heels clomping on the wood floor as you completed a spin and landed daintily on the points of your toes. “Did you faint from shock?” Luke called out to you, as you slid into your seat behind the computer. “Nope, just slipped on the wood floor. Heels, you know.” You replied, and Luke snorted sarcastically. “-Said the woman who danced ballet her whole life.”

             The morning finally arrived. You hadn’t slept that night whether out of excitement or terror, you weren’t sure. You’d checked the weather in Las Vegas constantly off and on, shuffled out of bed and pulled things in and out of your suitcase based on the changes and what you assumed was business appropriate. The car arrived at your flat, and as soon as you stepped out of the flat and into the dreary English rain, the backseat door opened and Tom stepped out. “Morning, Y/n. Let me help you with your bags.” He was beaming, and it was way too damn early to be that happy. “It’s alright, Tom. I’ve got it.” It felt awkward that he—the star of the show—was offering you assistance with your bags. “It looks heavy, love. Let me get it. It’s raining, hop in.” He added, taking your bag and shoving it in the trunk. You didn’t fight him, and slid into the back seat. Ironically, you found the familiar Starbucks chai-tea and blueberry muffin in what had become your assigned seat.

             Tom slid in beside you. “You got up and got breakfast at 4am. You’re amazing.” You grinned at the man beside you. “If a muffin is all it takes to please you, what would dinner in Vegas earn me?” His blue eyes danced with amusement, he sipped at his coffee. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Hiddleston, that despite my modest taste in beverages and baked goods I am not a cheap date.” You teased. Tom laughed, the familiar ‘eh-eh-eh’ echoing through the car. He brought his hand behind his head, toying with the russet colored curls on his head. “You drive a hard bargain, y/n. I’ll have to think of something spectacular then. Luke told me to make sure you have some fun and don’t work the whole time we’re in Las Vegas.”

             “Have you ever been to Vegas?” You asked, trying to change the line of conversation because you fully intended to work this whole trip. “Never. I am looking forward to it though. I’ve heard it’s unlike anywhere else in the world.” As the airport came into view, you pulled the itinerary out of your work bag. “Luke made sure Comic-Con Las Vegas spare no expense for us on their maiden voyage. We’re staying at the Four Seasons there. I had no idea there was even a Four Seasons there.” You scanned the rest of the reservation as you waited to offload behind the numerous other cars. What you expected to see was two rooms, what you read was a suite. A very expensive suite. You cursed under your breath, and Tom turned to glance at you. “Alright?”

             “I think Luke messed up our reservation. He booked a suite, I can call and change it though.” You tried to show nothing but confidence, but you were quivering inside. A suite with Tom Hiddleston? That was too good to be true. “It’s correct. Luke and I normally get a suite when we travel. It’s just easier than hunting each other down across the hotel.” You could’ve sworn that Luke had a cheaper room when you were following them on a movie premiere tour. But he was the one in charge, and you would do what he asked. “Are you sure you don’t want your privacy?” He shook his head ‘no’. “It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” Before you could say anything else, the car door opened and the driver handed you both your bags. You moved through hordes of Paparazzi, Tom expertly ignoring them. You were a bit overwhelmed, but tried not to let it show. Luke had always referred to it as running the gauntlet. It certainly felt that way.

             Tom, ever the practical one, had insisted that the two of you fly first class on British Airways, but no private jets. “Despite our adventures together, I feel like I don’t know that much about you.” Tom was making small talk while you waited for take-off. You noticed a few people staring, one or two trying to get pictures with cellphones. “What would you like to know?” The intimacy of the moment wasn’t something you expected, but you didn’t really know what to expect. You’d never done this alone before. You knew Luke and Tom were very close, maybe this was normal in a relationship with one’s manager. “You’re not English, where do you hail from?”

             “I was born and raised in New York City. My father was a doctor, and my mother was a dancer for the New York City ballet. He was taken with her when he saw a performance she was in on a date with another woman. He waited for her at the exit of the building and took her on a date, and the rest was history.” Tom smiled. “Sounds like a fairytale.” You sputtered with uncomfortable laughter. “It was for a time. They divorced when I was young. They were both career driven, and that’s probably where I got it from.”

             “Luke said you dance ballet.” The plane had taken off, the two of you were on your way. The questions didn’t stop. “I did. I danced in a few companies in New York, I moved to England to dance in a few national tours. I was never Prima, I broke an ankle before I could make a name for myself. I still do it for fun, but I was somewhat forced to give up the dream of doing it professionally.” You tilted your leg out, showing off the chunky scar across your ankle. Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s some break.”

             “I have a few rods and plates holding it together. I was forced to look for a desk job, Luke needed a secretary. He gave me a chance when my ego was really deflated and I didn’t feel like I was useful anymore. I had to give up my dream. But he taught me his trade, because he could see I was ambitious and willing to learn. I owe him a great deal.” The conversation came much too easily with him, you felt like you were spilling your guts and crossing a line you shouldn’t cross with the movie star. “Luke is the type of person who see’s potential everywhere. He’s able to see talent and kindness in people who don’t always see it in themselves. He’s put me back together a few times when things got difficult.”

             You had always wondered how difficult fame could be. There had been a time when you coveted it above all else; probably not the level of fame that Tom had acquired—but you had fought to become a prima ballerina your whole life. You’d passed up relationships, and milestones to practice to reach that goal. When it was unreachable because of your health, you felt cheated and your life didn’t have a purpose. Luke had given you back that purpose. You had always (rather foolishly, it seemed) assumed that fame made life easier. But in watching people try to take pictures of him doing nothing but sharing a drink in first class with you knew that was fake. He had more resources, but he didn’t have privacy.

             The two of you chatted the rest of the flight off-and-on, rushed through airports for transfer flights, listened to music and watched movies. As time passed, you became more comfortable with each other. You learned about his childhood, about his desire to become an actor even against the advice of his parents. But eventually, in what would’ve been the early hours of the morning in Las Vegas, the plane touched down. You met your security team, who acquired your bags for the two of you and managed to schedule you from paparazzi when all you really wanted to do was sleep. Tom was patient, waving to a few of them half-heartedly before getting into the car.

             The suite was ready for you when you arrived at the Four Seasons in Las Vegas. The place was trendy, yet eloquent in true Four Seasons fashion. You were escorted to your top floor suite by the manager who stuttered nervously in the presence of Tom. You needed a special key card to take the elevator to your floor. The manager walked the two of you around the suite from the kitchenette, to the master bedroom and the small indoor pool. It seemed surreal to you. Tom thanked the manager, and then the two of you were alone. You stood in front of the window, over-looking the beauty of the Vegas strip lit up beneath you. “This is beautiful.” Even in your sleep deprived state, you could appreciate the beauty of this city and the electricity it produced. It reminded you of New York, it never slept.

             “Yes, it is.” Tom stood beside you, and you saw him side-eyeing you from his spot beside you. You wondered for a moment, if in your sleep deprived state, if you had imagined it. There was no way that Tom Hiddleston, movie star, was interested in a broken ballet dancer turned manager. Thankfully, the two of you were able to sleep in as the Con started later in the day. “I’m off to bed, I’m exhausted. See you tomorrow?” You asked, stepping away from the window and towards your room. Tom nodded. “Goodnight, y/n. Sweet dreams.” He smiled, and wrapped you in a hug that pulled you against his long, lean body. It was a tight hug, you dropped your itinerary in the shock of how intimate the embrace felt.

             You stood there, eyeing him stupidly as he retreated to his rooms. Maybe you weren’t imagining this all. But, if you weren’t, could you even act on it anyway? You were sure there was some unwritten code of conduct somewhere. It took you sometime to fall asleep after tossing and turning, and perhaps some fantasizing of the tall, British man in the room across the suite from you.

               Arriving anywhere with Tom always involved a flurry of activity; there was security, the fans always seemed to know his movements. There was screaming and chaos, and the flashing of cameras from paparazzi. This was your first time escorting him to an event solo, and you had completely under-estimated the sheer amount of star power that this new Comic-Con had managed to obtain. There many famous faces there from Marvel, and even other Avengers.

             You awkwardly stood off to the side of the massive room that had become the welcoming area for the celebrities. You lingered with a drink in your hand watching Tom mingle with his ‘friends’ as you thought it’d be strange to hang on his arm like a date. This clearly was not a date. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the handsome man sliding up next to you. “Let me guess, talent agent?” The man asked, and you nearly dropped the martini glass you were holding you all six foot of Chris Evans smiled down at you. “Yes. I’m Y/f/n Y/l/n. I work for Luke Windsor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evans.” Naturally, you were a little star struck though you’d never admit it. “You’re here with Tom then.” He tilted his head towards where Tom was laughing with hysterically at something some beautiful blonde movie star had said. You felt jealousy blooming in your chest, and you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t yours and as a professional you should have these feelings about a client.

             “I’m just trying to make a career for myself.” You shrugged, taking a drink of your Martini. You noticed Chris was wearing a Patriots hat, and you began chatting with him about Football. It felt good to talk about American football with someone. He gestured you over to the bar, he got a beer and you refilled your martini as the two of you engaged about the beauty of the East Coast. He was easy to speak with, he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or less than because you weren’t a movie star. Eventually, the staff showed up and started calling people in for their panels. Chris was one of the first on the list, and you noticed Tom approaching the two of you with his brows drawn together out of curiosity. “I really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/n. If you’re not busy tonight, maybe we could have another drink?” He offered you a napkin, and when you unfolded it, his number was written on the inside.

             “Sure, I uh- can’t really say with my schedule but I’ll try.” You smiled, sliding it into your pocket. Chris winked, disappearing out of the room and leaving you to face a very stunned looking Tom. “What was that all about?” Tom asked, his voice a bit quieter than normal, but also more forced. “I think Captain America was trying to get in my knickers.” You chuckled. Perhaps because of the alcohol you were amused by your own humor, but Tom was not. “And were you planning on meeting him?” You shrugged. “I’m not sure. He seemed nice enough.”

             “You’re supposed to be here working, not flirting with movie stars.” It was a sneer. The words stung you, especially given he had abandoned you to go flirt with movie stars himself. “I am working. It’s called Networking. I am Luke’s assistant, and eventually I’m going to have to have a client base for myself. Don’t tell me how to do my job.” Tom shook his head. “Whoring yourself out for clients isn’t how this industry works.” You set your glass down on the bar with a slam, walking away from Tom before you said or did something unprofessional. Tom knew right away he had crossed the line. He moved after you. “Wait, Y/n! I’m sorry! That was totally uncalled for, I’m an ass-“ You walked towards the restroom, trying to slam the door on him as you stepped into the nicest ladies restroom you’d ever seen. Plush, with couches and perfumes and fancy towels. But you weren’t alone, Tom followed you in there.

             “Are you out of your mind, Tom?! Get out, this is the ladies restroom!” He was pale, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.” You cut him off, moving to stand toe-to-toe with him. “I don’t understand you! You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met one minute bringing me breakfast every morning and then the next minute you’re calling me a whore! My God, you’re so-“ You couldn’t finish, his lips were on yours and you were suddenly pushed up against the sink by his lean body. His hands cupped your waist as his lips moved against yours. You were breathless, goose flesh rising over your body as you relaxed into his arms which had moved to tightly encircle you. Your fingers brushed up his arms, tangling in his russet colored curls. Your brain had slammed to halt, all you could think about was how good he smelled.

             “Jealous. I am so jealous.” Tom finished for you when he released your kiss swollen lips. Your anger turned to passion, when you were no longer breathless you kissed him again. Your whole body went pins and needles, he boosted you up onto the sink, and your legs spread as he stepped between them. His lips moved from yours, across your jaw, down to your neck.  His hands moved to cup your breast under the thin camisole you wore and you moaned at his ministrations. “Tom.” You whispered, and he hummed in response. “You’re going to miss your panel. Luke will kill us both.” He glanced down at his watch and cursed. “Meet me back at our suite? It seems we need to talk.” You nodded, and he helped you slide off the sink and back onto your feet.

             “I don’t have to go out there and fight Chris for your affections, do I?” Tom asked, the two of you sneaking out of the women’s restroom when the coast was clear. “No, I’ve always had more of a thing for Villains, anyway.”

              You waited on the couch in the sitting room of your suite at the Four Seasons, and you watched the sunset over Las Vegas with a Manhattan in hand. It wasn’t the first one you’d made that evening while waiting for Tom to return from the Comic-Con. No one who knew you would’ve assumed you needed liquid courage for anything. But you did for this. Your hands traced over your lips, your eyes closed as you thought about that kiss. Minutes felt like hours, so much had been left unspoken.

               The lights had risen over the Vegas strip by the time Tom returned, you heard the door open behind you and spun around to find him kicking off his shoes. He looked relieved to see you there. “I- was afraid I frightened you enough that you bought a plane ticket back to London without me.” He sat by you on the sofa, an uncomfortable silence falling between you. “When did you start to see me like that?” You finally asked, and Tom sighed as he pulled his hands through his hair in his nervousness, you were hyper aware of his movements. Everything about him seemed to ooze sexuality.

            “You started shadowing Luke shortly before Ragnarok, he invited you on the press tour with us. October 15th, you came downstairs in a dark blue evening gown with Luke when we were getting ready to leave the hotel. You were stunning, you seemed to float when you moved. You made it seem so effortless, if you were scared of your first premiere, I never would’ve guessed it. I spoke to you the first time that night, you blushed and laughed a lot. But I was smitten. I had the urge to find ways to see you, so I would bring you breakfast. I’d remind Luke to invite you to things so you got the ‘experience’. Your intensity for your career made me second guess pursuing you. But I can’t stay away anymore, y/n.”

            His long fingers moved to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your whole body felt like it was on pins and needles, you had butterflies in your stomach. You had never experienced this sensation with any other man. You met his eyes. “If you don’t want me, tell me now. I will let you go on about your career without influence of interference. But if you have the slightest inclination that this could work, please-“ Tom couldn’t finish his sentence, your lips were on his. Your hands gripped the expensive button down he wore and tore it open as the buttons hit the rug beneath the two of you. Tom tangled his hands in your hair, holding your body against his as the two of you tried to devour one another. You had moved across his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist.

            Your hands moved over the lean muscle of his stomach, his chest. Tom moaned into your mouth when your hand moved lower and removed his belt, and pulled down his zipper to palm him through his boxers. You owed a great deal of your courage to your liquid courage, but also the desire that been building in you for hours while you waited for him. The anger that stirred in you when you thought about him flirting with those other women at the convention. Tom lay back on the sofa, allowing you to slide him out of his pants as you tossed them through somewhere in the living area. You worked your way across his chest with your stomach. Then you moved lower, sliding his underwear down his legs and wrapping your tongue around his length. He gasped when you adjusted to the sheer length of him, gradually taking more and more of him into your mouth, moving faster and faster. You reached your hand between your legs, you were already dripping wet.

           His hips moved upwards, and you almost choked on his impressive length. Tom was panting, trying to control himself. “I need you, y/n. I need to be inside you.” He caught you by the waist, bending you over the back of the black leather couch. His fingers toyed with your clit, and you cried out in pleasure. His fingers slid inside of you easily, and you saw the reflection of him licking his fingers in a near-by mirror. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine.” He growled, more animal than man. He pushed himself inside you, one hand on your waist as the other toyed in the ends of your hair and pulled your head back. His thrust were perfect, hitting you ever so perfectly right where you needed him to be.

         “Tom.” You purred out. You feel yourself climbing to your climax as his thrusts increased and his rhythm seemed to break. You knew he was close. “Tom, please!” You begged, catching another glance at the two of you in the mirror. Your lips were kiss swollen, your hair and eyes wild as he pound into you from behind. His sheer strength slid the couch every time he thrust into you. “You’re perfect, Darling. Come for me. Come now!” He reached around to tap your clit in rhythm with his thrust, and you came at the same time. You screamed out his name, not caring who heard you when you did so. Tom settled a moment. You were so tired you struggled to move from the couch where you were hunched over it. Or at least until Tom lifted you into his arms like a bride carrying his groom across the threshold. He carried you to his bed, pulling back the covers before setting you down and allowing you to slide inside them.

        He crawled in, rolling on his side to face you. “Get some sleep, love. We’ll go out and celebrate your birthday later tonight.” He whispered with a soft smile, brushing a few sweaty strands of hair from your face. You were asleep in moments, but you were a light sleeper. When you rolled again, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against his body, burying his face in the crook of your neck and placing a kiss there before falling asleep.

 It was a birthday you were sure you’d never forget.

             The two of you drank, you gambled, you danced the night away at one of the hottest clubs in Las Vegas. Shot after shot, drink after drink; it seemed to never end until the early hours of the morning. The last time you’d been black out drunk was in college, you groaned as you rolled over in Tom’s bed. He was still sleeping peacefully, the blackout curtains in the room were fantastic. You could barely tell it was nearly noon there. You tip-toed over clothes and shoes thrown about in an attempt to make love after all the evening’s activities.

             But then you noticed a sash lying on the floor near the dress you’d chosen that evening. You lifted it the gold, gaudy thing and saw ‘JUST MARRIED’ written across it in silver letters. At first, you wondered if it was something you acquired from a bachelorette party or something of the sort as the two of you had come across numerous different parties that night. But then your phone vibrated. You moved to the night stand, and sitting next to your phone was a silver band dusted with diamonds. That wasn’t something someone would give up like a sash. The events started to flood back into your mind. You searched for Tom’s left hand, he groaned as you lifted it into the dim light of the room and saw a matching silver band. “Oh shit. Oh God, Luke is going to murder me.”

             You had spoken prophecy, your phone lit up and saw the text message from Luke. He’d sent you an article with colorful photos of your drunken evening with Tom. Candid’s of your wedding photos at a little chapel in Vegas. You both were excited, smiling stupidly at pointing at your rings. After nearly hyperventilating, you finally found the courage to look at Luke’s text message. It was simple: What did you two do?!

             Tom yawned, stretching out his arms and spinning around to find you sitting with your arms wrapped around your knees, pushed up against your chest and two shades paler than normal. “What’s wrong, love?” Tom asked, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Tom, Luke is going to kill me.” You practically sobbed. He chuckled, setting a hand on your shoulder. “For sleeping with me? He doesn’t have to know until we’re ready to tell him, love. It’ll be alright.” You shook your head, trying to find the words, they were stuck in your throat. What if he regret the decision? What if he was mad at you for letting him get so sloppy drunk he married his agents assistant. “Tom, we got married last night at the Little White Wedding Chapel. The press got a hold of it.”  

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