#Chanelle Sofa Suite

[leathergallery]

Shop the elegant Chanelle 3+2+1 Fabric Sofa Suite in-store or online from

3+2+1 Suite: R36,999.00

3-seater: R15,500.00

2-seater: R14,299.00

1-seater: R9,299.00

Turn your living space into a haven of timeless elegance and comfort with the Chanelle Fabric Sofa Suite!

Key Features:

· Upholstered in durable polyester fabric for lasting comfort and style.

· Enjoy the plush feel of high-density foam inners wrapped in extra padding, ensuring long-lasting protection and comfort.

· The integrated S spring system maintains the shape and support of your seats for enduring relaxation.

· Showcases a Victorian-inspired design with intricate Jacquard-patterned fabric, adding a touch of classic sophistication to any space.

· Features elegant scrolled armrests, tasselled coverings, silver accents, and a splay bracket foot design for a refined look.

Elevate your home with the Chanelle Fabric Sofa Suite today and experience lasting comfort. Shop it now at your nearest Leather Gallery store!

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[thebetawolfgirl]

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Word count: 1,858

Pairing: Timmy x reader

Summary: Timmy finally marries the woman of his dreams.

Warnings: SMUT! And just pure joy, a bit of laughter and a bit of teary eyed sweetness!

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Timothée had finally proposed to his beloved y/n and they finally engaged from last month. They were sitting at home discussing wedding plans while laying on the sofa. It was proving to be difficult, because both sides of the respective families all had their opinions and suggestions about what kind of wedding they should have. One of y/n’s cousins thought they should have a big lavish wedding, an old aunt thought they should get married in a church, but although Timmy was half Christian on his dad’s side he didn’t practice.

So they had shut the curtains, switched off the phones and laptops and any other form of communication and shut everyone out.

They were currently talking about their all time favourite movie, as a break from the wedding talk.

‘We should’ve just eloped as soon as we got engaged.’ Timmy suddenly joked from his spot behind her.

Y/n chuckled but her head suddenly began to spin with ideas.

‘You’re hilarious Chalamet, but your mother would kill you.’

‘True. And if Pauline would help bury my body’ he got up asking if she wanted anything from the kitchen he shook her head no going back to her magazine.

But when he disappeared she quickly messaged Mark and asked him to do some things for her. It was a long shot but if anyone could help her with this particular thing it was his father. She sent the message and got a response almost instantly. She wrote down the information given and put it away until she perfected her plan.

Timmy came back in with some snacks and cans of soda and she smiled. ‘I said I didn’t need anything’

‘Yes but if I had just came back with snacks for me you would’ve be eating them all’ she rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of chips.

‘Listen, I was just thinking, let’s go away for a few days. Just us, you’ll be doing SNL soon then we won’t have time. I think a few days off will be good.’

He nodded as he turned on the tv pulling her against him. ‘That’s actually a good idea, where abouts were you thinking?’

‘Hmm… How about France? Just to get away from all this stress and we can just relax.’ She looked at him nodding while watching tv.

‘We could get our own villa, with a swimming pool and I could wear that new bathing suit I bought.’

His head snapped towards her his entire attention on his fiancée now. ‘I haven’t had the chance to wear it for you with all of this going on.’

‘Uh-huh’ He watched crawl closer to him.

‘I could bring it and I could try it on-‘

‘I’ll book the tickets now’ she smiled as he grabbed his phone and started looking for early flights to France. The snacks were forgotten on the coffee table as he concentrated on his phone.

She went to move off him and he looked up frowning and whined like an injured puppy. ‘Heyyy’ he made to drag her back but she moved away. ‘I need to pack and I’ll let your parents and sister know we’re taking a few days off, then I’m all yours.’ She walked past him kissing him on the head as she did and hopped upstairs quickly texting Pauline telling her everything about her idea and for her and her parents to meet them at the exact location. Nicole called in tears saying it was such a kind and beautiful thing to do for Timmy and that he would love it. Mark called just to say ‘Thank you y/n, for doing this for my son.’

A few days later they arrived in France and it was beautiful weather despite it being August. Timmy was confused as to why y/n asked him to bring a shirt and tie and his good blazer. ‘Because we may go out to a nice restaurant and you can’t go out in your usual jeans and hoodie Timmy’ Timmy agreed reluctantly and reminded himself y/n was rarely wrong about this kind of thing and this would be the first step in obeying everything his wife wanted.

Their time in France was beautiful, they ate amazing food they visited all of the tourist attractions and Timmy even took her to where he spent his summers. They made love in the evening and she did try on that bikini and he ended up taking her right there in the swimming pool.

They ended up staying longer than intended, one day y/n wanted to go to this little village in the French countryside which Timmy found odd because there was hardly anything in it. She had told him to wear his suit and she wore his favourite dress the simple one he had bought her.

They reached the small village and they stopped in front of an old church, Timmy looked at it confused and looked back at y/n who was smiling at him.

‘Y/n, where are we?’

‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

She spoke softly holding his hand.

‘This is the church your grandmother married your grandfather in.’

Timmy gasped and his eyes widened before filling with tears.

‘I wanted your grandmother to be with us when we got married.’

He looked back at the old church before grabbing y/n by the back of her neck and crashing his lips to hers and kissed her as the tears fell from his eyes. He broke the kiss and whispered ‘Thank you.’

She smiled nodding and took his hand leading him towards the church where his parents and his sister were waiting for them along with y/n’s parents and sister. As soon as Timmy saw his parents he rushed over to them burying his face in his mother’s shoulder sobbing gently. ‘Mama’

Y/n new he missed his grandmother dearly so it felt right to get married in the same church she did.

Timmy moved from his parents embrace and hugged his sister before turning to his future in-laws and hugging them.

After the greetings and preparations Timmy stood at the alter waiting for his bride. This was better than any lavish wedding and the fact y/n did all of this for him, in memory of his beloved grandmother sealed his confidence that this woman, this incredible beautiful woman would be his and only his. He would watch her soar with her music and they would support each other and have that happy ever after.

They exchanged their vows in French and sealed their bond with a kiss and walked up the aisle husband and wife. Equals.

They had a small private meal at their favourite in Paris and then went back to the villa. Timmy asked both families if they wanted to stay with them but they already got somewhere to stay. Y/n’s parents were staying with the Chalamet’s at the family villa.

They all bid their goodbyes and the happy couple went back alone.

Y/n smiled as she knew Timmy just wanted to get her back to the villa to have her to himself.

Her theory was proved right as soon as the front door was locked he shoved her against it and attacked her mouth.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her bridal style upstairs to their bedroom and shut the door with his foot before setting her down.

She reached for him sliding his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground, he pulled her against him by her waist and buried his face in her neck and whispered ‘Wife’

Her breath caught in her throat and she whispered back ‘Husband’

A choked gasp escaped his throat and he groaned against her neck nipping her shoulder, they shed their clothes quickly and she pushed him gently to sit on the bed before climbing on to his lap.

The place was in darkness but he could feel her fingers trailing along his chest as she made to push him backwards, but he flipped her over so she was underneath and began kissing and nipping her lips before moving down her throat and all the way down.

She took a deep breath as she felt him at her thigh and heard him gasp and smirked. She had tied around her thigh the Chanel Ribbon instead of the traditional lace garter. She heard him groan and felt the ribbon being pulled off her leg and suddenly see him above her ‘You’re so bad’ he still had the ribbon in his mouth and she took it from between his teeth before wrapping it around his neck and tying it in a bow around his throat

‘Oh’ he breathed out softly at the feel of the satin around his neck and she grinned at his surprise.

‘You can proceed now’

He looked at her through the dark with wide eyes in shock before he dove down and began devouring her holding her legs open as she cried out and gripped his curls.

He began moving his tongue up and down her bundle of nerves before poking his tongue inside of her making her slam her hand against the railing above her head.

She knew she would have bruises where he was holding her hips down as he went down on her and she didn’t care.

She was close to coming and so pulled on his hair to bring him back up and dragged him to her by the ribbon around his throat smirking when he gasped. He groaned as he flipped them onto his back and kissed her hard before letting her sit up and sink down on him, they both groaned and started moving together. She untied the ribbon and pulled on both ends with her hand pulling him slightly and smirked as he grunted in surprise. She leaned down and met his lips and they kissed passionately as they rode each other hard.

Timmy held onto her digging his fingers into the skin of her back leaving scratches and slamming his hips against hers meeting her force before rolling them over and burying his face into her neck. His arms were trapped around her shoulders underneath and he could feel her dragging her nails down his back. He growled out against her neck at the sting of her nails and grabbed the bed railing using it for leverage and slammed into her harder, hearing her small gasps against his shoulder ‘T-Tim- I’m-‘

She cut off and arched into him as he thrust a few more times before coming with her his hand sliding down the headboard as they breathed heavily against each other.

After catching their breathes they lay in bed together and he played with their entwined fingers as she lay her head on his shoulder. He looked at their wedding rings and smiled softly as they glowed in the dim light of the moon shining through the open window.

‘This was just the beginning’ was Timmy’s last thought before he fell asleep in her arms!

@sufferingstarlight

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@gatoenlaciudad

[calummss]

Kylo Ren Blurb: A Little Twirl, Sweetheart

masterlist

summary: kylo wants to see the clothes you bought

pairing: fem! reader x kylo ren

words: 600

a/n: inspired by this gif. SO PLEASE WATCH THIS GIF BEFORE READING!! LIFE CHANGING

“I’m back.” You called into the hallway as you struggled to close the door, multiple bags hindering you from turning around, forcing you to close the door with your butt.

You slipped out of your black Mary Jane heels and quickly tiptoed towards the kitchen table to relieve your arms of the weight you were carrying. Turning around you saw Kylo sitting on the sofa, a nice cut suit hanging off his frame.

“Where have you been?” He asked, his arms stretching over Chesterfield's sofa back, an old-fashioned glass in his right hand. The amber colour of bourbon waiting to warm his throat.

You made your way to him, bracing yourself on his knee as you climbed up to his face, kissing him. “Shopping.” You smiled.

“Alone?” He caught your lips again, the faint taste of alcohol seeping into your mouth.

You kissed him back once more before lowering yourself on his knees, your arm starting to throb.

“No, I was with Arienne for a while but I had a lot to get through my list so I only really spent the last hour alone. Well, besides Hux who is always there for me. Bodyguard and all…”

Kylo’s eyes attentively sat on your figure as you talked about your shopping.

“Show me what you bought.”

“Like a little fashion show?”

His index finger curled under your Vivienne Westwood choker pearl necklace, pulling you towards his face. “Just like a little fashion show, sweetheart.”

You felt him on your lips again, your hand resting close to his cock, innocently rubbing your thumb against the rough fabric.

“Not only does it make me incredibly horny to see you swoon over me but the fact you get turned on by it gets me very wet,” your other hand gently holding his jaw.

“I like seeing you dressed up,”

“I bet you do,” you leaned away from him, your fingertips not-so-accidentally grazing his cock as you sat up from his knee and walked over to get your bags before disappearing inside the bathroom to change.

You put on the first outfit: a two piece set from the Chanel spring collection from 1995. A blue cropped double breasted coat with a black skirt and gold chain.

Opening the door you strut towards Kylo, your outfit fitting like a second skin.

“It’s Chanel,” you said, admiring the sleeves with a grin. “1995 spring collection.”

Kylo still sat on the sofa, his glass of bourbon placed on the side table. He was still leaning into the back of the sofa, his legs open. His eyes scanned you head to toe.

“What do you think?” You turned to give a full view of the outfit.

“The colour suits you and the skirt makes your legs look good. I like it.”

Walking back into the bathroom you changed into a black Chanel dress. A 1992 Haute Couture Spring/Summer show, a rare item you managed to buy. It felt like wearing a winning lottery ticket.

You walked out again, this time with a set of black heels you had also bought, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Kylo leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees as his eyes darkened.

“Can you do a little twirl for me, sweetheart?”

You turned, giving him a full view of the dress.

“This is my favourite piece I have ever bought.”

“I agree.”

“So you like it?”

“Love it.” He stood up, coming closer. His arms wrapping around your waist. “Keep it on.”

“As you wish,’ you combed through the back of his hair, your lips inching closer. “Sir.”

[gossip-witch]

There’s something so exclusive about parties in the city during the summer. So intimate — with no unwanted guests. Well, or at least, almost no unwanted guests. And before social climbers and Elite-wannabes feel alluded, I’m talking about the paparazzi. Not that we don’t like to have our pictures taken, but it’s become increasingly obvious just how jobless and bored they are because they’ve been hounding the few people in town worth talking about — and even some unworthy ones like the Oliviers.

But summer and the beach go hand in hand, and I could never completely forsake the shore unlike that heartthrob actor D. Did you know he abandoned a lavish spread in the Hamptons (yes, he’s staying Stateside lately) to spend a steaming-hot summer in sticky London. Now that’s dedication.

Needless to say, across the pond we do things a bit differently. Admit it or not, here we like the whole royalty thing — especially a certain heir to the throne and his intellectual and super classy younger sister or most importantly, that French Empress we all know and adore. But I digress. Now that Wimbledon is over, I’m thinking of leaving town — no more of this popping back and forth on charter jets and helicopters. I know I said that things don’t get cooking in Capri for a while and I usually wait until August to hunker down for the season, but I’ve been getting reports about some intriguing activity out on the island. I might have to check it out myself. It’s so hard to be me: how can I be in two places — or three or four or five — at once?

But while I’ve got your attention, let’s check in on a few of our favorite people.…

A new couple?

There has been some speculation that the relationship between those two totally platonic “friends” is not just a school besties situation anymore. How shall we put it? Apparently, there’s romance involved. What’s the evidence, you might ask? My loyal sources report our Golden Boy and his darling “friend” D have been caught wearing matching, unidentified designer rings — details are scarce but we totally saw T flaunting what seems to be an alliance ring at the Royal Box in Wimbledon. And though many of D’s delusional fans don’t seem to be willing to give their blessings to the couple yet, we’re all here for it. Can’t you just picture them, cuddling on the sofa, trading their Gucci and Chanel, and just being absolutely adorbs?

And speaking of Wimbledon 

Is our favorite chanteur finally playing the Princess’ husband-to-be part? If we go by his most recent public appearance, we’d dare to say ouais! Our darling superstar was spotted at the Royal Box in Wimbledon catching the men’s finals. Yours truly and her private circle are still debating whether he was invited by HRH The Prince of Wales himself or if our PR Queen J just pulled some strings, but it was a start! Little M still has a lot to learn — he looked like a new money kid on his first day at Eton, dressed in an ugly Ralph Lauren suit and that lost expression — but we’ll forgive him just this once. Here are a few tips, M. Whoever respects themselves would never lounge at the Ralph Lauren private suite. And next time you try the GRWM format, skip the trad-wife-style voice-over, yours and Little T’s fans will thank you for it. 

L’été exotique

Last but not least, our dearest Empress and her hubby S are nowhere to be found. Rumor has it they’ve been holing up in a super exclusive and exotic private island that not even their closest friends M and J know the location of. It’s frankly a shame. We’d do nearly anything to see our Empress rock her summer wardrobe. 

But don’t think I’ll give up so easily.  I’m going to stay on the case and get some answers. It is, after all, my summer job, and I’m the hardest worker I know. 

Someone’s got to do it.

You know you love me,

XOXO,

— GOSSIP WITCH

[lookclike]

eliza hummed thoughtfully. "birthdays used to be such a big deal back then, weren't they? i still remember the year i got this samantha doll with all her little outfits and books... and then ate so much cake i almost threw up." she laughed a bit. eliza didn't know if she had any birthday celebrations before woodrow — if so, they were probably small, quiet affairs at the orphanage that she didn't have any recollections of. but the ones spent at woodrow were all locked to her memory like a photograph in a locket, tinged by childhood happiness and, occasionally, teenage embarrassment. even now, eliza still visited during her birthdays for a small, quiet celebrations — it's not as if she had many friends in the city that would be missed in a party. "i'm sure birthdays must also be fun in paris. especially the birthday shopping." fashion, at least, was something eliza and natalia seemed able to find a middle ground on, though she suspected the older woman would frown at the brightly colored and patterned pieces eliza liked to wear underneath chanel skirts and suits.

natalia's willing approach was a small victory in eliza's mind. funny, how she seemed somehow more reachable an ocean away than standing right in front of her, on the opposite end of the same sofa. "oh, believe me, they aren't. but shock does sell. people are more interested in the blood and violence then the love." a somewhat hard truth for eliza to swallow. but there was a reason why the tragedies are so much more well known than the comedies, as if death is a more respectable ending to a story then happiness. "he did. i loved when he took us to the opera. didn't understand anything if he wasn't actively trying to explain it, but it was still so fascinated by the grandiose of it all." she frowned at natalia's last words. she was probably right, and the realization hit eliza like a train. she wasn't sure how to feel about it. "i kind of wish it had been something more uplifting. maybe the tempest." and then, trying for a more lighthearted joke. "or wicked the musical."

The limbo in between seasons. Eliza always had a way with words. It was something Natalia learned with their emails over the years. She had also taken up English Literature when they were at Kingsbury hadn't she? Something Natalia was sure Richard loved. "I'm probably biased but I love it," she said. To be contrary or just to speak what was on her mind, Natalia wasn't sure. "My birth month. I looked forward to getting older every year." Though, she wasn't sure how she felt about her birthday this year. Just under two weeks away, a couple of days after their week at Woodrow should conclude. She'd be 27, jobless, homeless. Yeah, it wasn't looking great. "Oh, way more fun for sure. Better food, cuter boys. Ones we didn't grow up with," she added with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I remember from your last email," Natalia managed to recall, as hazy as her mind was at the moment. "Portia, right?" She wandered further into the common area and took a seat on the same sofa as Eliza, albeit at the opposite end. "I might have to re-read Romeo & Juliet. I don't remember them being drenched in blood the whole time." She chuckled, her gaze dropping to her lap as she smoothed the front of her skirt. Of course, Richard had gone to see Eliza's off-Broadway production. Natalia was sure Eliza could put on some avant-garde performance on the side of a piss-covered street, and Richard would be there. "He always did love a good production, didn't he?" She said, a touch of melancholy in her voice. "Yours was probably the last one he saw." The words slipped out before she could stop them, her tipsiness betraying her usual restraint.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many - Chapter Two.

Since I’ve now completed Upon Darkened Shores, this will replace its posting days of Monday and Thursday, maybe with the odd chapter thrown in here and there too as an extra treat since this story is virtually writing itself right now. Alfie as a muse is a force to be reckoned with, besties! I’m looking forward to your thoughts, as always :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,074

Warnings - 18+ for later chapters. Minors DNI!

“Right then, princess. Get out my bleedin’ way. Clothes horse to the rescue.”

Magda. If there was one person Beth could count on in a clothing crisis, it was her best friend.  

“Thanks so much, Mags. I really appreciate it,” she spoke, Magda pausing from towing dress bags through the lounge door of her small Putney flat.  

“You can appreciate me with brunch on the corner once a decision has been made. Hurry up, I’m fucking Hank Marvin’!” Beth had never been one for cockney rhyming slang, but her bestie was a huge proponent of such. Closing the door and following her in, Magda was laying out the bags carefully upon the sofa when she entered the lounge, turning to Beth. “Right, where did you say, again?”

“Lunch, Notting Hill.”

“A location would be useful,” Magda further prompted.

“The Ledbury.”

Picking up a bag, she moved it over to the desk chair. “That’s those two out. Right, now, bear with me. I know you always say you don’t suit grey, but you’re full of shit and I’ve crapped more knowledge after a bran flake induced bowel movement than you’ll ever bloody know about fashion, so just take a look.”  

She was on form, as usual. Mind you, Magda only ever had one form. Talking and gesticulating at a thousand miles an hour, with a delivery blunter than a spoon. “Here, look at this. Ralph Lauren, and a size bigger than you usually take, but they do run small, so I’ve noticed.”

“Hmmm,” Beth mused, taking in the wool, iron grey dress.

“Get it on!”  

Saluting Magda as she pulled out the next offering, she changed out of her joggers and vest, wiggling into the dress, reaching behind herself to fasten the zip.  

“Always freaks me out when you do that, Miss Rubber Shoulders,” Magda shuddered, on account of the fact Beth was double jointed, so had no issues doing up her own zips. “Right, let me see you.” She paused for all of three seconds. “Nope, get it off. It ain’t that one.”  

Usually, she would have liked to have vetoed an outfit herself before a decision was made, but Magda, being the chief fashion stylist for the UK publication of ELLE Magazine, certainly knew what she was talking about. “Right, Max Mara. Actually, no. I don’t like that neck on you. Bear with me.”

She raided the bags with the same zeal as Winnie the Pooh attacking a honey jar, pulling garments from within until she landed on what she was looking for. “Versace! If in doubt, go with Versace. Donatella might have a face that looks like one of those heads they hang on the back of a door in Peru, but she knows her bloody dresses.”

Beth burst out laughing at her analogy, taking the baroque bodycon dress and slipping it on, Magda assisting with evening out the stretchy fabric. “That’s it, girl. That’s the one! That and your little sandals with the gold clasps. Perfecto. Right, get the hell out of it and feed me!”  

“Are you sure it isn’t too much?” Beth asked tentatively.

“You’re interviewing Alfie Solomons, ain’t you?”  

“I am.”

“And he’s a power player on the circuit, so you need the power dress. You turn up in fast fashion and he’s gonna take you about as seriously as if you’d just walked in wearing a clown suit. I still can’t believe you’ve never heard of the fella either. Only fucking owns half of bloody London.”  

“I wasn’t going to wear fast fashion!”

“It still disgusts me that you buy it. Bleugh. Hurry up!” With her marching orders in place, she went and changed into her jeans and a shirt, pulling on her flip flops (Primark, to Magda’s distain) and picking up her bag (which was Chanel, to Magda’s joy) before they exited the flat and walked to Romero’s on the corner for the promised brunch.  

“He doesn’t own half of London, by the way. Just a lucrative percentage of it,” Beth chirped after they’d put their order in, Magda pausing from guzzling her black coffee for a second, her face incredulous.

“You know he just bought The Pendulum, don’t you?” She did not. The Pendulum was one of the chicest boutique hotels in the city, with rooms starting at an eye watering tariff of £1,000 a night.  

“How is it that you know so much about him and I don’t?”

Magda snorted, pulling her Marlboro Lights from her bag and lighting one up, likely the first of many. “Because you live under a bloody rock, apparently.” she paused, bobbing her tongue out playfully, Beth making her roar when she stuck her middle finger up discreetly. “He’s a big deal, that man. And he used to date Tiff, one of my wardrobe assistants. She was one of four. You know that too, don’t you, that the guy thinks he’s Hugh bloody Hefner with the multiple girlfriends, except he’s fucking sexy as fuck and not old. Or dead now, rather.”

Beth’s ears pricked up at such a revelation, that Magda knew someone he’d previously dated. “Oh really? And what did Tiff have to say about him?”

“Not much, really. Other than he spoiled her rotten and had a cock like a baby’s arm holding an apple.” Another of Magda’s classic analogies, causing Beth to spray a mouthful of foam over the table, her friend included. “Oi! Watch it, this is vintage, making me look like I’ve been bloody cum all over!” Swatting at the flecks of foam from her light jacket, she glared at Beth, that glare eventually turning into a grin.

“You’re so dirty.”

“Like you ain’t!”  

“I have my moments, but you’re a constant stream of pure filth, Mags.”

Raising her coffee cup, her grin widened to Cheshire cat proportions. “That’s why you love me! Now, tell me in as many words what the viper had to say about your article, because personally I think she’s talking out of her bloody arse.”

Magda would think that, though, almost always having Beth’s side where her journalistic endeavours were concerned. She was staunch in her support, yet would tell her if she thought anything she’d written had missed the mark. She’d read her piece on childless by choice women and loved it, so took great umbrage with Madeline’s refusal to publish it.  

“Saccharine bullshit?” she exclaimed, once Beth was done relaying the meeting. “So, it’s saccharine now, for a woman to relish in the declaration that her ovaries purely ornamental? Pah. Just because she’s a bloody breeder.” At thirty-eight, Magda had decided long ago that children were not in her future. She and her husband, Dennis, loved their four rottweilers like they were children, though. Besides, Dennis, being twenty years her senior, had two kids from his first marriage, so it was of no issue to him, Magda’s choice not to have any.

“I mean, it’s not as if I even did that, though. My personal stance was that children aren’t in my immediate future as a twenty-nine-year-old woman, and that I would like to become a mother eventually, just not now. I make no apology for speaking with pride about my decisions and detailing how myself and others truly are extremely content in our choices as well. There’s nothing saccharine about that.”

She paused, sipping her coffee, contemplative. “However, maybe I should revisit it and take the criticism. I won’t improve unless I do.”  

“Or tout it to another publication?” Magda suggested, drawing gently on her cigarette. “Then, you see, if you receive similar critique, you’ll know it was an issue with your writing and not something down to Madeline’s personal preference.”

Beth had considered such, but if she was honest, her confidence in her words had taken a little bit of a knock, hence why she hadn’t taken the steps to reach out to any other editors as yet. Freelance journalism was tough in that respect, no guarantees of publication and having to people please in order to receive attention. Perhaps her article might please somebody else, though.  

After two plates of food (scrambled eggs for Beth, eggs Benedict for Magda) had been polished off, Magda had to dash to get to her appointment later that afternoon, Beth heading home to begin emailing out her rejected article to a few of her contacts in the press, hoping that someone else out there might find her words worthy of print. She didn’t worry too much over it if they didn’t, though, because she knew she’d be onto a winner with her next planned piece, the subject of which she would meet in three days' time.  

When Saturday arrived, she was up and out of the house by 9am to arrive early for her 9;45am meeting, being greeted with much more enthusiasm for her other piece, a write up on the disturbing trend of FGM and the impact it had upon women and girls, discussing the condemnation in the face of cultural tradition. She left on a high, her article accepted and praise heaped upon her, rushing back home via tube and running all the way from Putney station to her flat, showering again quickly and smothering herself in lotion before pulling on the beautiful Versace dress, touching up her makeup and calling an Uber to get her to Notting Hill on time.  

“Hello, flower.” Rising from his seat upon her arrival at The Ledbury, Alfie kissed her cheek in greeting, pulling her chair out for her. Very gentlemanly. “You’re early, and you look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“You definitely suit Versace,” he continued, the waiter arriving with them. “Mind if I order for you, treacle? They have a red here I think you’d enjoy.”

“Yes, no problem,” Beth confirmed, moving her chair a little closer to the table.  

“The 2019 Merlot, please. And a soda water, lots of ice. Cheers, fella.” The waiter departed swiftly with a nod, Beth noticing a trend with his drinks, that being they lacked any alcohol.

“You don’t drink?” she inquired, Alfie shaking his head.

“So seldomly it would be fair to say I don’t, no. I enjoy the same as you when I do partake though, sometimes the odd pint of Guinness an’ all, but those occasions are very few and far between. Oh, I took the liberty of requesting a non-treif menu for lunch. It’s a set taster, but strings can be pulled for dietary requirements, although I have no clue over your flexibility where Kosher is concerned, I didn’t want to risk it.”

Very attentive, Beth noted. “I’m fairly relaxed. How about you?”

“Well, I was raised Orthodox, but as I’ve grown, I’ve learned heavily to Liberal, or as my mother refers to it as, a bad Jew. I suppose I am in a lot of ways, really. I ain’t a good boy by a long shot.” The look in his eye eluded very clearly to Beth that dietary stipulations were not solely what he referred to there. “Still, though, I don’t touch treif, although I’m more relaxed about Kosher slaughter if I’m eating meat anywhere but home. I confess, sometimes I’ll be cursing Amira while she’s sitting there chomping on a fuckin’ bacon sandwich because it smells so bloody good,” he chuckled.  

The waiter arrived with their drinks, Alfie thanking him courteously before turning his focus back to Beth. “And you?”

“The same, funnily enough, except I was raised Liberal so my parents weren’t massively strict about eating out. Still, though, I was never allowed a cheeseburger, and I’ve never eaten one since moving out from under their watchful eyes, either,” she revealed, Alfie raising his eyebrows.

“I bloody love those things,” he laughed, shaking his head but not looking ashamed. “My mother wouldn’t half wallop me for it.” Of course, part of the Kosher rules stipulated that meat and dairy were never to be eaten together.  

“How very meshuggeneh of you!” she teased, sipping her wine.

“I know. Like I said, I’m a bad boy.”

She smirked, leaning forward a little. “A badge you wear with much pride.”

He mimicked her movement, his face a picture of levity. “If only you knew the half of it.”

“I’m hoping I will, once our interview commences.”

He chuckled, winking. “At least two thirds couldn’t be detailed within a public place.”

Circling the rim of her wine glass with her fingernail, she couldn’t help herself. “Those being non-verbal in the demonstrative?”

Alfie smirked. “That’d all depend on you, darlin’.” Oh yes. He was a bad boy, but Beth could easily give as good as she got.  

“Would it? Personally, I’m of the opinion it would be more the other way around, if you catch my drift.” He did, and he felt himself pulled towards the beautiful, witty woman across from him all the more. His girlfriends, he never had that kind of verbal play with him. They weren’t dim-witted, but even basic nuance sometimes sailed right over their heads. He enjoyed a woman who bit back, who he could have a bit of fun with. “Now, I believe we have an interview to conduct, all banter aside.”

Taking her phone, she opened up the voice note recorder, hitting record before placing it back on the table gently. “So, Alfie. Give me a little bit of background behind the man slowly buying up London’s hospitality industry one venue at a time.”

“How far back do you wish for me to detail?”

She shrugged, straightening her fork. “At the beginning? But abridged.”

“Alright, can do. What you need to understand first though, yeah, is that I built what I have from literally nothing, Beth. I had fuck all, right, born a poor, Jewish lad on the third of December nineteen eighty-four, raised in Camden, the first child of second-generation Russian immigrants, Sarra and Boris Solomons. I have two younger sisters, who my mother raised mostly alone, since the old man died of cancer when I was six. Losing my dad young was what gave me the drive to succeed, watching mum struggle. I always maintained that I’d make a success of myself, and I did. By the time I hit twenty-six, I’d gone from barman, to bar manager, to eventually bar owner.”

“And how did you raise that kind of capital, in order to facilitate the purchase of your first bar? Also, where was it located, and do you still own it?”

“A combination of maxed out credit cards, bank loans and the gift of the gab with investors. I’d paid the lot off within the first two years of Penny Black’s opening, and yeah, I still own it. I’d never part with it now, I’m a sentimental ole’ bugger like that. It’s over in Ealing. Ever heard of it?”

Beth smiled with nostalgia. “Heard of it? It was my local when I was at uni.”

“Yeah? Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised at such a coincidence. “So, what uni were you at? West London?”

“Good guess,” she confirmed, nodding. “How about you?”

“I did an NVQ in business and finance at college, then studied for my BA in the same around working two bar jobs. Fucking knackered me right out, but it was worth it. So, tell me. What was your first break in writing?”

She looked at him somewhat curiously, licking her lips momentarily, the action sending a pleasant shiver through him. “Who’s interviewing who here, Alfie?”

He laughed softly, stroking his beard before sipping his drink. “Well, you to me. It don’t mean I can’t get to know my beautiful interviewer a little while she goes about her work, though.”  

She gave him a subtle smile, cocking her head. “It does when you derail my questions.”  

“Ooh, she’s fierce.”

“Correct. So, tell me what challenges do you most commonly face, running a small empire the likes of which you do? I discovered you have quite the profitable portfolio of establishments within your ownership.”  

He paused for thought for a moment, long enough to sip his soda, crushing a large piece of ice between his back teeth. “Trying to do too much of it myself. Because I’m a bloody perfectionist, you see, and I wear myself too fuckin’ thin a lot of the time, since I know how I like things to be done, and very few can accomplish the tasks I set them with quite the same proficiency.”

He was so very confident in himself, but it never came across as arrogance to Beth. His conviction was cool, his faith in himself solid and unshakable. She found that notable, the fact that he wasn’t attempting to impress her by being overly grandiose.  

“And what does a typical day look like for you?”  

“I’m awake at six to get a workout in, shower and then have breakfast. I head into my home office for 7:30am, where I spend most of my day unless I have meetings to attend, then pause for lunch if time permits, finish at about four, walk my dog for a couple of hours over the park while glued to my phone answering emails and taking calls, then depending on the day, out with one or all three of my girls on the night, or enjoying my own company.”  

“Yes,” she began, clearing her throat. “About that. Dating three women at once.”

Adjusting one of the two chunky, gold rings he wore, he looked out from long, light brown eyelashes, his mouth upturning. “Why do I get the distinct impression, yeah, Bethany with the lovely legs, that it’s this side of my life that holds the most fascination for you?”  

“I am equally interested in hearing you discuss your business ventures and successes as I am the inner workings of your love life, but from the perspective of selling the article, I know what will draw the most focus with the readers.” The way she held his gaze so firmly and spoke with such confidence impressed him, but he couldn’t help himself.  

“Because sex sells?”

“It certainly does.”

“I admire that honesty. Because we all love shagging, don’t we?”

She took a piece of her hair, twirling it around her finger, the action speaking loudly to him. “In my game, I’m all about the truth. So, care to indulge me?”

He snorted softly, scratching his chin, smile widening. “I’d do a lot more than that to you, Beth.”

It was about to become an interesting interview, she sensed.  

[dollyshaw]

The Thing About Rain: An Adrienette Story (Part 2)

In which realizations are made.

The wind and rain blew harshly around Marinette as she made her way to House of Gabriel. She’d never regretted not getting her license at 18; she liked to make her way around Paris by foot. It was easier to meet people that way, and she didn’t have to worry about leaving her car somewhere if she ever had to transform on the fly. Today, however, she wished she could drive.

She gripped tightly onto the umbrella that Adrien had given her on that fateful day seven years ago. This was, as far as she was concerned, the greatest token of friendship and affection.

Though this umbrella may have made her feel warm inside at the memories it held, it would not prevent the rain from splashing into her pink rubber boots and sogging the ends of her black cropped trousers. Her tan “Gabriel” trench coat was not even enough to prevent the water from dampening the white blazer and striped blouse of her carefully cultivated ensemble meant to impress her new Mentor, Gabriel Agreste.

Over the years her clumsiness may have soothed itself, but her luck while out of her alter-ego’s protective suit never improved. Her black cat hadn’t even crossed her path today. What irony.

She was relieved when she finally turned the corner to the front of the House of Agreste Studio building. She pushed her way through the gold-plated revolving door as she undid her umbrella and shook off the excess water. She hooked it via a carabiner to her black Chanel side-strap and shed her trench coat as she made her way to the elevator.

She was in the middle of the downstairs lobby before it even hit her where she was. She stopped dead in her tracks in the center of the room, mesmerized by the building around her. She knew Mr. Agreste personally, which made this all the more surreal to her. She noted all of the gold in the room. Gold caulking connecting the ceiling to the white marble walls. Gold crested plates on the ceiling. Gold mixed into the black marble flooring beneath her feet. All of this accented the gold chandelier reaching down from the center of the ceiling, crystals coating its long arms reflecting the lights behind them to give the room a warm glow. She knew Mr. Agreste built this from nothing, which gave her the utmost respect for him as a designer and a business man.

“Good Morning, Maribug.” A voice shook her from her thoughts.

Standing beside her, clad in carefully tailored black slacks, an ironed white chemise buttoned right below his collarbone and the sleeves rolled to right below his elbows, and tan loafers, was Adrien Agreste. Her breathe hitched as she noted the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips as he called her the nickname he coined after calling her his “everyday Ladybug” all those years ago. She knew it was just because of the compliment, but every time he called her “Maribug,” she questioned whether or not he’d somehow figured out her secret identity.

“Adrien Agreste! You scared the life out of me.” She sighed pinching her nose, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry Marinette,” He said helping her pick up the papers she dropped “but look, I brought you breakfast.”

“Awe, you didn’t have to!” She blushed taking the small bag and cup from his hands.

“It’s your first day, Mari. Consider it a welcome to the company.” He smiled putting his hands into his pockets.

“Well thank you fine sir.” She grinned.

“You’re more than welcome, M’lady. May I escort thee to thy office?” He faked a bow and offered his arm. She nodded and took his arm, though she was slightly taken aback by the wave of familiarity that accompanied his statement.

M’Lady? It could have been purely coincidental that he referred to her as M’lady and Maribug on the same day, but it was not lost on her that the only person she’d ever heard use the term was her partner. She’d concluded a long time ago, however, that there was no way Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir could be the same person. Sure, they had a lot of physical similarities and she had never seen them in the same place, but their personalities were drastically different. That and the fact that Tikki did not seem to respond to Adrien in the slightest completely convinced her that Adrien was not Chat Noir.

Marinette, however, was not very observant when it came to Adrien Agreste. When she was around Adrien, nothing in the world around her seemed to matter. Her blissful oblivion was only maximized when they were in close proximity.

Maybe if her arm hadn’t been carefully looped around his, or if they weren’t less than a foot away from each other in an enclosed space, she might have noticed the way that the security cameras turned to follow her and Adrien as they moved through the lobby. She may have noticed the way it took several unusual moments for the elevator to start its ascent, as if it were weighing the odds of bringing them up to the thirteenth floor. If she hadn’t been in an elevator with Adrien Agreste, as she had been many times before, she might have noticed that the odd feeling the rain gave her this morning clung to her through the lobby of House of Gabriel, lingered in the elevator, and radiated around her long-time crush like the fumes of a well-aged cheese.

________________________________________________________

Adrien Agreste was oblivious about a lot of things, but not even he could miss the way his heart sped up a few beats when Marinette Dupain-Cheng took his arm. With her this close, he could feel the warmth of her person, almost like she physically radiated the way she made others feel. He could breathe in the fragrances of fresh bread, rose, and something very familiar that he could neither put his finger on nor could he identify where he’d smelled it before. Her dainty hand curled around his forearm gave rise to a certain warmness in his cheeks and in the pit of his stomach. Any warmness from Marinette, however similar, would always pale in comparison to the feeling his Lady gave him when she so much as smiled.

Adrien Agreste was oblivious to a lot of things, but not even he could miss the odd, almost calculating look on his father’s face as the elevator doors opened on the 13th floor to reveal him. He paid little attention to his father’s face, as he was more surprised that his father was, indeed, standing before him. He’d fully expected to meet his father via a tablet screen in his office rather than face-to-face.

Beside him, he heard Marinette emit a small gasp at the man standing in front of her. True, Adrien had not seen his father in person much in the past seven years, but the public (including his very own new apprentice), had seen him even less. He could only imagine that she had not been expecting to encounter him in person at all during her time at House of Gabriel.

“Adrien,” he began, resting his hands one-above-another on the ball of his ebony cane “Thank you for escorting our young designer on her first day of work. How chivalrous of you. One might even say… heroic.”

Adrien was still too taken aback by his father’s presence to notice the glint in his eye as he finished his statement. Marinette was far too engulfed in anxiety to notice the way Mr. Agrestes eyes slanted and lips curved into a sinister smirk as he spoke the final word.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” he continued, taking her hand from his son’s arm and lightly kissing her knuckles, “Welcome to House of Gabriel. We are very pleased to have you with us.”

Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit angry when his father took Marinette’s hand from his arm and tucked it neatly into his own. He felt his cheeks heat up when his father started walking with her to his office and motioned for him to follow, making polite conversation with his best friend as they walked.

“Kid,” Plagg whispered from the hidden pocket inside his chemise, “You gotta calm down. I can feel the negative emotions welling up so I know ShadowMoth can. I know she’s your girl, but you have to cool it.”

“She’s not my girl!” Adrien almost shouted. He quickly noticed that he was not in a private place and the designers around would most definitely think he was going mental for talking to himself, so he quickly corrected himself by saying “She’s My Woman! Yea! It’s on Jagged Stone’s next album you guys won’t want to miss it.” And then he ducked his head and kept walking.

“Nice going kid,” Plagg tried to emit as much of him rolling his eyes as he could into his tone, “but seriously you’re going to have to calm down.”

Adrien tried to steady his breaths as he followed his father and Marinette into his office at the end of the room. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that his Father had missed breakfast with him this morning, as well as every morning for seven years, and made a point to show up for Marinette’s first day of work or Plagg calling Marinette his girl, but he was sure that the heat in his chest was not because he was jealous of his father showing Marinette off to the office like a trophy. She was just a friend, after all, a really good friend.

A friend with dark navy hair and blue bell eyes. A friend who could light up a room just by stepping into it. A friend that made her friends macarons when they were having a bad day, and stayed up with them until 2 a.m. if they needed someone to talk to. A friend that, if he weren’t obsessed with his partner of seven years, could see a future with.

He was snapped out of his trance by the sudden sound of the heavy metal plated door of his father’s office closing.

“Mademoiselle, as I claimed earlier Adrien and I, as well as the entire staff of House of Gabriel are honored to have you as my personal apprentice.” His father praised as he lounged in the green upholstered armchair by the fireplace of his office.

“Merci, Monsieur Agreste. It is an honor to be learning from an icon, such is yourself.” Marinette squeaked as she took a place on the sofa across from him. Adrien made a point to situate himself on the couch next to Marinette, an odd feeling of protectiveness radiating through him.

“Oh, please darling, call me Gabriel. We will be working very closely together after all.” He responded, glancing at his son the entire time. Adrien instinctively slanted his eyes at his father and twisted the ring on his finger. In the moment, all he could hear was his heart beating out of his chest and the warmth that followed on the tips of his ears and the tips of his fingers. He resisted the urge to call upon his Kwami. He couldn’t figure out the source of this anger, which frustrated him more. He suddenly felt a small hand wrap around his own and squeeze.

“Adrien,” Marinette whispered “Are you alright? You look a little tense.” He noticed that his father had gotten up from his spot across from them to brew some tea at the cart across the room.

“I’m fine Mari, something just feels off.” He grinned tightly at her.

“You feel it too? I’ve felt on edge since this morning and couldn’t place it.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, not knowing completely what she was talking about.

“I don’t know, just something in the air, I guess. I just have a bad feeli-“

“Mademoiselle,” Gabriel interrupted, sitting back down and handing her and Adrien both teacups, “Have I ever asked you where you got your earrings? I’ve noticed you wear them every time we come into contact. They’re just so… unique.”

“Oh, um, t-they’re a family heirloom, sir.” Marinette grinned, taken aback by his sudden interest in her jewelry. Adrien had never noticed her earrings before. He looked at them now, noting how familiar they looked. Not because he had seen them on Marinette, but because he could swear he’s seen them somewhere else.

“Interesting, they resemble a pair I’ve seen in a book I own greatly.” He continued as he leaned forward. “Would you mind taking them off so that I may examine them a bit closer?”

“I-I’d rather not sir. See, my grand-pere gave them to me as a birthday present and I’d rather not risk losing them.” She tensed. It was at that moment Adrien saw something he was sure he was dreaming. Marinette’s crossbody sat on the floor, slightly open. Had he not been familiar with tiny Gods, Ladybug’s Kwami in particular, he might have thought the tiny red head poking out of the top of Marinette’s bag was a stress toy.

“Mademoiselle, I can guarantee no harm to come to your heirlooms. I simply wish to inspect them.” Gabriel insisted.

“Sir, I will allow you to inspect my earrings when you allow me to inspect your pin. What an interesting pin that is, too. Is it a butterfly?” Marinette responded, more confident than Adrien had ever seen her before. That was when the ground came crashing in on him.

The hair, the eyes, the smell, the earrings, the confidence. How had he not seen it before? He was with her every day. He sat behind her at school. He followed her every move across the rooftops of Paris for the past seven years. He’d fought beside her at every akuma and laughed beside her during group hangout. Marinette was Ladybug. More importantly, Ladybug was Marinette.

“Very astute observation of you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, or shall I refer to you as: Ladybug. I shouldn’t be surprised that my son, despite being a miraculous holder himself, has yet to notice.” Gabriel taunted.

“I’m sure Chat Noir was too busy fending off your akuma’s to notice that they were spawning from his house.” Marinette replied beginning to stand up. She looked at him as Ladybug did when she was signaling for Chat Noir to prepare for battle, but Adrien had not yet reached the conclusion that she had.

“Marinette is Ladybug.” Adrien reasoned in his head. “Ladybug is Marinette. Marinette knows that I am Chat Noir. My father knows that Marinette is Ladybug. My father knows that I am Chat Noir. My father is a miraculous holder. My father holds the butterfly miraculous. Akumas spawn from my house.”

Adrien suddenly gasped outloud, realization crashing over him.

“Gabriel Agreste is ShadowMoth.” He rationalized outloud from his place on the couch.

“Right you are, mon fils. You should be a little more careful when you leave the mansion. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. No one ever specified who's curiosity.” Gabriel cooed at him, standing menacingly by the fireplace. “Nooroo, Dark Wings Rise!”

https://dollyshaw.tumblr.com/post/658612297611264000/the-thing-about-rain-an-adrienette-story-part-1

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Sending my love to you

For the lovely @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​ 😍😍😍😍

Hope you’ll love the story!

TW: Smut, swearing (Roman being Roman)

The songs quoted are not mine.

"No, thank you! For the umpteenth time, I'm not interested!"

"Oh come, doll! Why do you refuse to have some fun with me?"

(Y/N) (L/N) rolled her eyes, exasperated. The thug who was trying to make a move on her was annoying!

"Are you deaf? I already told you that I don't want to be with you! I'm already with someone!"

"And then? I don't care!"

"Oh? Well, maybe you would care if I told you that I'm Roman Sionis's fiancee?" she snapped.

(Y/N) tried to hide her delight when she saw her suitor being terrified at the mention of Roman Sionis, one of the most powerful mobsters in Gotham City. 

Also known as Black Mask, he was notorious for his bad temper and his tendency to murder those who dared piss him off.

The thug stepped back and said with a quivering voice:

"Okay, okay... You win. Please, don't tell Sionis!"

"If I'm in a better mood, perhaps I would act as if nothing happened! Now, get out of my view!"

Once her admirer ran away, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

She could not wait for her future husband to come back from his business travel around Europe. 

(Y/N) smiled while thinking about her fiance: Roman might be terrifying for many people, but when he was with her, the mobster was different.

Indeed, he was the perfect partner for (Y/N): he wasn't only a loving and considerate boyfriend but also a good listener and a supportive companion. After all, he never asked her to give up her career as a fashion designer when they started dating.

But now, all she wanted was to come back home, relaxing on the sofa and waiting for Roman.

She got up, went to her car, and drove back to the penthouse. 

Once she arrived, she politely saluted the doorman and went upstairs. Then, she turned on the lights and sat on the sofa, reading her mail.

A blue envelope caught her eye, and she smiled in pleasure: it was Roman, without a doubt!

(Y/N) opened the letter and saw a beautiful card with a picture of Venice at night.

She turned the card around and read the message:

My future queen,

I can tell you that my business trip is coming to an end, which is a relief.

I know that you're longing for me, but I'll come back as soon as possible. And you know I'll always keep a promise, only for you, my jewel.

Be a nice girl as always, and wait for me.

You know the song:

Treasure these few words 'til we're together

Keep all my love forever!

P.S. I love you, you, you, you

I'll be coming home again to you, love!

Wait for me, sweetheart.

Your future King.

Roman Beauvais Sionis.

(Y/N) fondly smiled: since the beginning of his travel, her fiance always send her postcards from different countries with lovely messages.

According to Victor Zsasz, Roman "became a helpless romantic" when it came to her. However, he did not say that with harshness: after all, she became the only person he accepted to be close to his boss.

She won't say that she and Victor became friends, but they trusted and respected each other. That was enough for her. As she relaxed against the sofa, the young woman was impatient to hold her boyfriend in her arms. They will be together again, no matter what would happen...

The next day.

"I think we should hire this group for the Special Saturday. What do you say, Miss (L/N)?"

"This is an excellent idea, Sally. I've heard that they are becoming popular in Gotham..."

"Indeed, yes. So, shall I book the Thunder Boys for next Saturday?"

"Okay, let's do it. Can you call the manager for me?"

"Already done, Miss (L/N)," smiled Sally as she picked her phone.

(Y/N) smiled: she appreciated Sally since the kind blonde woman started working at the Black Mask Club as a manager. Her main task was to organize special events at the club, and she excelled in her work. Even Roman praised her choices!

As she walked around the club, checking on what the employees were doing, she asked the waiters:

"Is everything ready for tonight?"

"Yes, Miss (L/N). The drinks are in the cellar since this morning. The digestives are in the fridges, and we are waiting for the pastries. The bakery called us to say they are on their way. They will arrive around 10 minutes!" answered Kyle, the bartender.

"That's perfect! You did a good job!"

"Thank you, Miss."

"You're welcome," she answered before examining the decoration.

Since their engagement, Roman appointed her as the co-owner of his club, and she appreciated the gesture. (Y/N) had many occasions to design and create outfits for the staff on special events, such as holidays or theme parties. The patrons of the club and Gotham's elite always admired her work.

She smirked as she remembered her first meeting with Roman: it was during the Gotham Fashion Week, two years ago. He was a VIP guest, and she was presenting her new collection. 

This week was a success for her, and she caught his eye after a fashion show.

He felt immediately attracted to this lovely and charming young woman and asked for her number, under the pretense of ordering a new suit.

Since then, they always were together, and the media pictured them as the "Power Couple" of Gotham. 

An unofficial title that amused her more than anything. But right now, the young woman longed for her beloved mobster, as soon as possible... 

Meanwhile, at the Gotham airport.

"FINALLY! This fucking business trip is finally over!" exclaimed Roman as he put his suitcase in the car trunk.

"You're right, boss. But at least, we are at home!" stated Victor.

"Indeed. I'm fucking tired of those fucking jackasses. Remind me to never deal with German mobsters again!"

"Noted, boss."

Sionis sighed before smiling:

"But, let's not killing the mood! I would finally be reunited with my queen!"

"And I'm certain she was impatient to see you again!"

"Obviously: it was the first time we've been apart from each other for a long time! It must be so painful for my little Coco Chanel!"

"As it was distasteful for you!" grinned Victor.

"It's an understatement, Vic!"

Both men entered the limo and when they were starting the engine, Roman's phone buzzed.

"Ah, wait a minute!"

He picked up the call.

"Hello, Roman Sionis's speaking!"

**"Hello, darling."**

"My beautiful future wife! How are you?"

**"I'm fine, thank you. But I miss you, handsome!"**"

"Aw, my lovely doll. I miss you too! But don't worry, I'll be back soon!"

Roman and Victor heard a soft sniffing from the other side of the line. They look at each other, upset: was she crying?

"Baby, you're alright?"

**"Yes, of course. I'm just tired, but it's fine. Don't worry about me!"**

"What kind of husband I would be if I do not care about my lovely wife? Now, baby: don't panic, I'll be home soon, 'kay?"

**"Okay. Come back safe and sound, it's all that I ask!"**

"Don't ask me twice, darling! And be sure that I'll spoil you rotten when I'll return!"

**"You don't need to, Roman!"

"Darling, that's my duty as your fiance, and it would be my duty as your husband!"

He heard her soft laugh.

**"You're incredible!"**

"That's why you love me, beautiful. Alright, I must go. See you later, darling!"

**"Okay, see you later. I love you!"**

"Love you too."

He hung up the phone and said:

"Victor... Tell me I did not mess up everything!"

"I don't think so... I guess she is just unhappy to not seeing you right now... If only she knew that you called her from the airport!"

"I wanted to surprise her, not making her sad!"

"Don't worry, boss. I'm sure (Y/N) will forget it when she will see you!"

"I hope so... Now, let's go! I have some business to deal with before coming back home."

"Here we go, boss..."

Timeskip. In the night, at Sionis's penthouse.

(Y/N) was sitting in her armchair, drawing some sketches of new dresses for the waitresses for the Special Saturday. She had many ideas in her mind for this event, and she was confident about the achievement of this happening. Roman would be proud of her... 

Thinking of her fiance made her heart ache, and she stopped drawing.

(Y/N) hoped that he did not hear crying during their call. She knew that it would agitate him until they meet again, and she wished that it would not trouble him for his business.

The silence in the penthouse was oppressive for her, and she tried to fill it by humming a song:

I'm coming home.

I'm coming home.

Tell the world I'm coming home.

Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday.

I know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

I'm coming home.

I'm coming home.

Tell the world that I'm coming home.

Unbeknownst to her, Roman was already in the penthouse when he heard her singing. Smiling, he advanced stealthily behind her and softly sang:

As I write this letter, send my love to you.

Remember that I'll always be in love with you.

Treasure these few words till we're together.

Keep all my love forever.

P.S. I love you, you, you, you.

I'll be coming home again to you, love.

And till the day I do love.

P.S. I love you, you, you, you.

Startled, (Y/N) turned around and let out a cry of happiness when she saw Roman standing behind her, a triumphant smile on his lips.

"Hello, princess. I'm home!"

"ROMAN!" she yelled as she jumped on her feet and ran into his arms.

He laughed as he wrapped his arms around his fiancee, holding her tightly.

"Looks like someone missed me!"

"You have no idea. It seemed like an eternity!"

(Y/N) looked at him with a slight frown on her face.

"But I thought you were still in Europe when I called you!"

"I was at the airport when you call me!"

She playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"You jerk!"

"Ouch! Baby, why do you hurt me?" he laughed.

"Because I was sad!" she answered.

"And I'm sorry about that. I wanted to surprise you, not upset you!"

He gently touched her cheek.

"Now, I am here, and I'm not leaving you! 'Kay, pretty woman?"

"Okay."

He grinned.

"Now, my queen, why don't you give your beloved king a well-rewarded kiss?"

"With pleasure, your Majesty!" she laughed before pressing her lips against his.

Roman welcomed this gesture with a moan of pleasure and started to stroke her sides, sliding his hands under her shirt.

She gasped:

"Hey, slow down! Are you that hungry?"

"You have no idea, doll. I missed your touch for too long, and I want to catch up time!"

She saw the lustful sparkle in his eyes and smirked:

"In this case, we are two of us!"

She asked:

"I forgot! Where is Victor?"

"I gave him free time! He deserved it, after all!"

"So, it's just the two of us?"

"Absolutely."

He scooped her up.

"Roman, I have legs, you know?"

"Yes, but I love carrying you like a princess! Besides, consider it as a rehearsal for our honeymoon!"

"Oh My God! You're kidding!" (Y/N) laughed.

"I'm serious, darling! Now, let's have some fun! We both deserve it!"

On these words of wisdom, he walked to their room with his fiancee in his arms.

Once they arrived in the bedroom, he gently laid her down on the bed before closing the door.

Then, he topped her with a hungry smile.

"I've missed you, (Y/N)"

"I've missed you too, Roman. Kiss me, please!"

"Your wish is my command!" smirked the mobster before kissing her.

She answered the kiss feverishly, slightly moaning as he bit her lower lip.

Without interrupting the kissing, they hurriedly took off each other's clothes, impatient to feel their bare skin under the hands of their beloved one.

Within a few seconds, they were completely naked, admiring each other's beauty.

Roman started kissing her before letting his lips tracing down her body, making (Y/N) shivering with pleasure. 

Chuckling, Sionis continued his little game by peppering kisses on her stomach and thighs before licking her entrance.

Gasping, she clutched his hair, making him groan.

"Hey, hold on, tigress! Do you want to scalp me?" he chuckled.

"S... Sorry!" she moaned.

"Nevermind, it's alright... Where was I? Oh yes!"

And he continued teasing her by kissing her intimate parts, tightly squeezing her sides.

(Y/N) was fogged with pleasure: she knew that Roman was an experimented lover, but Lord! He knew how to take her to cloud nine!

As for Roman, he enjoyed making her scream with pleasure: it turned him on every time. But now, he wanted to take the next step.

Withdrawing, he came back to face her again while adjusting his member near her entrance.

They looked at each other, their eyes filled with love and desire. The only sound they heard was their accelerated heartbeats and their erratic breaths that filled the room.

"You're ready?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm always ready for you, Roman." whispered (Y/N).

"That's my girl!" he chuckled as he kissed her lips before penetrating her.

When she felt him inside her, she panted before rolling her hips against his as he started thrusting.

If it was slow at first, his poundings were faster each time their hips rubbed against each other, making her cry with desire. 

Roman groaned with lust as he heard (Y/N)'s voice moaning his name. Her hands scratching and holding his back made him hard: God, she was so addictive!

Tangled in the sheets, they accelerate their "dance" without stopping their cries of bliss. 

Ultimately, they reached cloud nine in a last outcry of desire. Panting and tired, the lovers held each other with tenderness. (Y/N) puts her hand on Roman's chest while her beloved fiance gently stroked her hair.

The silence stopped when the young woman muttered:

"I'm so happy to have you here."

"I have noticed." chuckled the mobster as he kissed the top of her head.

He added with a soft voice:

"I've missed you too, princess."

"I have noticed, you know," she smirked.

She sighed.

"I tried to be strong, to make you proud of me."

"But babe... You don't have to prove anything to me. You're the only woman I ever dreamt of being mine forever.  You are strong, confident, creative, smart, friendly, and so beautiful. I cannot be more proud of you than I am now. Otherwise, I would never choose to marry you!"

"That's true: you have a reputation for being a womanizer!"

"I used to have this reputation. Now, the only woman I ever laid my eyes on is you!"

(Y/N) raised her head and met his deep blue eyes. Usually, they were icy or fiery when he was with business partners or enemies. But when he was with her, they were soft and loving.

She was the only one who can appease the mobster - and Victor was grateful to (Y/N) for that.

The young woman smiled before kissing her lover:

"I love you, Roman."

"I love you too, (Y/N). Now, let's have some sleep, 'kay? We have a kingdom to rule, my beloved queen!"

"So, sleep well, my dear king!" she muttered before drifting away in her sleep.

"See you tomorrow... my love," he murmured before falling asleep.

As they were slipping in the arms of Morpheus, the two lovers enjoyed the presence of their significant other, finally reunited.

After all, what better place to be than home, when your beloved one is waiting for you?

🎵Songs used:🎵

🎵Coming home - P. Diddy, Skylar Grey, and Dirty Money.

🎵P.S: I love you - The Beatles.

Thank you very much for the reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story, and I’m waiting for your reviews!

Don’t hesitate to send me a request!

Take care and see you soon! 😘😘😘😷😍💖

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[tiffdawg]

Just Another Mission | An Agent Whiskey x Reader Fic

Gif: @javier-pena​

Pairing: Jack Daniels/Agent Whiskey x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.1K

Rating: T | Warnings: None. This is literally all fluff. Fake marriage and sharing-the-only-bed tropes included!

A/N: Hi! Please enjoy this trope-ridden, cliché-filled Agent Whiskey x reader story that popped into my head at 2am the other night and demanded to be written. I blame everything on Pedro Pascal.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Just Another Mission

Since taking on the mantel of Agent Rosé at Statesman, you’d been partnered with Agent Whiskey on numerous missions over the years. On paper, this was just another mission. It really shouldn’t have been any different from the rest. The two of you were tasked with infiltrating an insider trading ring on Wall Street that was doing enough damage to the stock market for Statesman to take notice. It was certainly nothing out of your ordinary purview.

As such, you and Agent Whiskey were going undercover as the heads of an up-and-coming southern investment firm looking to expand up north. In order to give your assumed identities a bit more depth and secure invitations to the criminal group’s private social events, your handler back at HQ thought it would be helpful if the two of you went undercover as a married couple. A regular twenty-first century power couple, if you will. The men and women involved in the insider trading ring, for all of their faults, seemed to be family-oriented people. Or, at the very least, beach parties for the kids in the Hamptons and private dinners at the Upper East Side’s finest restaurants with spouses served as the perfect pretext to meet to trade secrets, negotiate deals under the table, and discuss illicit plans for the future.

It almost seems odd that after all of your shared missions, the two of you have never pretended to be married as part your cover story before. But, as you stand in the doorway of your luxurious Manhattan hotel room, you were starting to see the benefit of not posing as a couple. You were also beginning to suspect your handler might be playing some sort of cruel joke on you.

Of course, in order to maintain your cover, she only booked one hotel room for the pair of you. It bolstered your cover story with the hotel staff and in the likely instance you were followed back to your hotel, it would help you keep up appearances. And, of course, there’s only one bed.

“Well, Agent Rosé, we are supposed to be married,” Whiskey quips with a wink as he moves past you into the lush, gilded room. Clearly, your displeasure is written all over your face.

You roll your eyes at your hotshot partner’s receding figure before following after him. You do your best to shake yourself out of it because you really don’t have any time to worry about something as trivial as an unexpected, slightly inconvenient sleeping situation. Instead, you refocus on the mission, hoisting your overpacked suitcase onto the downy, king-sized bed. You dig out the dress keeper and peruse your options for a moment before selecting an elegant black gown with matching evening gloves for the gala you were attending that night. It would be your first appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Castillo and the perfect opportunity to charm your way into the inner circle of the one percent. That is your priority.

… . …

Hours later, after an evening of drinking the best champagne, dancing with your fake husband, and successfully socializing with your targets, you’ve finally returned to your lavish Midtown hotel for the night. With your gloved hand still resting on the crook of Whiskey’s elbow, he leads you from the elevator to the door of your shared suite. He’s recounting a story about a time he talked his way out of a rather precarious standoff involving international arms dealers, a former US ambassador, and the disgraced prince of a small European country. You’re so absolutely enthralled by his story and the silky southern accent that drips off of his every word that for a split second you forget that you’re not actually married to the man on your arm. The thought startles you and you quickly remove yourself from your fellow agent, brushing past him when he eventually swings open the door to your shared room.

Aside from the occasional question about something that was said at the gala, things are quiet as you both type up your mission reports for the day. He finishes first, which is surprising for someone who’s known to be a bit long-winded, and disappears into the ensuite. Perhaps you would’ve completed yours by now if you didn’t steal glances at your fellow agent in between every sentence. Your eyes are practically crossing when you finally submit your report. It’d been a productive day, but you are more than ready to sleep for the next eight hours.

 .

“What are you doing?” you inquire with a light laugh. You’d just finished your nightly routine in the bathroom and emerged to find Whiskey attempting to stretch out his long form on the loveseat sofa.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he retorts back. “I’m going to sleep so I can be well rested for our champagne brunch with the Montgomery’s at the grand old Plaza tomorrow morning.” After a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand he amended with a sigh, “Or rather, later today.”

“On the couch?” you ask, playing with a loose string on the hem of your much-too-short sleep shorts.

“Well, where else would you like me to sleep, darlin’?” he asks in response. You don’t even flinch at the pet names anymore and instead the moniker pulls at something in your chest. Part of you thinks it’d be best for both of you to just leave it at that. He’s trying to be the gentleman and if he sleeps on the couch, all of your problems would be solved. Another part of you…well, you don’t want your partner running on fumes with a stiff neck while you’re in the middle of a mission, do you? Your eyes flick over to the bed and their movement doesn’t go unnoticed by the attentive agent. “Now, I know I may push my luck flirting with you, sweetheart, but I never want to make you uncomfortable. I’m fine spending the night here on the sofa.”

“Who said I would be uncomfortable, Jack?” Your words come out quieter than you intended, but you know he heard you. Rather than wait for him to reply, you crawl into bed, leaving plenty of space for him to join you. After a long moment of consideration, and a forlorn look back at the stiff, overstuffed sofa, he relents. 

Unsure how to position yourself with your fellow agent in bed with you, you toss for quite a bit. When you roll over for the fifth time, finally deciding that facing away from him would be the best option, he reaches out and pulls you securely into his chest. You gasp, surprised at his bold move, but find that he feels warm and solid against you. You’re so close you can feel his heartbeat behind you, drumming a steady, spellbinding rhythm. His arm stays wrapped around your waist, almost reassuringly, and your body relaxes into his.

“You settled now?” he asks, and you can just about hear his grin.

“Yes, I am,” you whisper back. 

“And you’re still comfortable with this arrangement?” His voice is lower, little more than a breath against the shell of your ear but he’s not flirting with you now. His usual confidence is gone, replaced by the slightest hint of nervousness.

“Very much so. I promise,” you answer genuinely, resting a light hand over his  where it sits against your abdomen in the soft space below your ribs. His only response is a slight squeeze around your waist.

With that, your eyes close and you let yourself drift off with the sound of his steady breathing behind you to lull you to sleep.

… . …

Much of your second day in the city was spent wining and dining a pair of your targets, another husband and wife duo. She was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and he was the sole heir to an old New England fortune. You and the Mrs. stole away for a bit in the afternoon to do some shopping on Fifth Avenue. While Statesman had allotted you quite the budget to keep up the appearance of a certain lifestyle, you weren’t sure how Champ was going to feel about your new Chanel pocketbook. It might not have been a strictly necessary purchase, but it was an excellent way to bond with one of your main targets.

“You and your husband make quite the pair,” she says while running her painted fingers over a stack of silk scarves at Saint Laurent. “He’s so obviously smitten with you.”

You preoccupy yourself with the rows of oversized sunglasses, hoping to hide your uneasiness at her comment. At least you and Whiskey were selling the married couple bit.

“I got lucky,” you reply with a lighthearted laugh.

  .

That night, he’s already in bed when you come out of the bathroom. You can’t help but watch him for a minute from the threshold. He’s sitting up against the headboard wearing a white tee shirt that only accentuates his broad figure and, you presume, he’s reading over mission files on his tablet as his eyes scan the screen from behind thick rimmed glasses. You’d learned over the years that his swagger, while not entirely unwarranted, often covered Jack’s studious, serious side. He is an effective agent because of his hard work, diligent research, and careful planning. It isn’t a side of himself he showed many people, but you are among the privileged few. 

After a moment, he meets your gaze from across the room. His eyes trail over your body, taking in your sleep shorts and oversized shirt, and a soft smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. You were well accustomed to his appreciative looks, but this was different, almost intimate.

“Well, darlin’, are you about ready for bed?” he asks. The question, while perfectly valid, struck you as something so wholesomely domestic.

You nod and offer him a small smile before slipping into bed next to him. He considers you for a moment longer then sighs to himself and tosses his tablet and glasses on the nightstand before switching off the light.

Cloaked in darkness, the two of you lie silently next to each other for a moment. Only the quiet hum of the air conditioning fills the room. But it’s anything but peaceful, and the longer you stir in silence, the worse this tension coiling between you and Whiskey gets.

“Jack?” you finally call out to him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he responds. The sheets rustle as he turns to face you. You seek out his eyes in the darkness with only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains to help you.

“Will you hold me like last night?” you ask tentatively.

“Baby girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

You meet in the middle of the bed. His arms wrap around you as you lay you head on his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt with one hand in a vain attempt to pull him closer as if your bodies aren’t already perfectly flush. You breathe in his familiar scent, something deep and rich and completely Jack Daniels, and you nearly sob at the relief of finally feeling him against you again. You’re almost ashamed to say you’d been craving it ever since you untangled yourself from his grasp this morning. You don’t know how this happened; how this man, your coworker and partner, cast this spell over you so quickly. But as he strokes your back with a gentle hand, you start to accept that it was there for a long time. And you hope that he feels it, too.

… . …

With everyone presumably at work on a Monday in New York City, you and Agent Whiskey decide that’s the perfect time to do some investigative work at your targets’ private homes. It’s no easy task considering they all live in the best (and most secure) penthouse apartments and spacious townhomes money can buy in Manhattan, but things went surprisingly well with only a few minor hitches throughout the day. At least things were going well until you discovered your final mark had recently upgraded the security system for their Park Avenue townhome and then things went south. Fast.

You’d passed most of the evening arguing with your partner, albeit in hushed tones so as not to alert the other hotel guests. While you and Whiskey had your fair share of disagreements in the past, you both have a bit of a stubborn streak in you, this fight is particularly ugly. 

Eventually, you decide you’ve had enough of him and so you lock yourself in the ensuite, hoping to drown your frustrations in a piping hot forty-five-minute shower. You spend most of your shower doing little more than standing directly under the stream of water and counting to ten repeatedly while attempting breathing exercises Ginger Ale had taught you in an effort to reign in your anger. 

He’s gone when you exit the steamy bathroom and for a minute you worry. Then you quickly decide it’s not your place to worry about the man and you throw yourself dramatically onto the bed with the intention of forcing yourself to fall asleep before he returns.

 .

When he finally slips back into the dark room an hour later, you’re still wide awake. Out of spite and stubbornness, you give him no indication of that fact. You are, however, surprised when he climbs into bed next to you. You figured tonight he really would opt for the uncomfortable couch rather than sleep next to you. After some time, you fall asleep with your backs turned to each other. You can’t help but think that the distance between the two of you has never felt greater. 

It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours later when you wake from a fitful sleep with the disheartening realization that you were both a little right and a little wrong. It leaves a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach until you just can’t take it anymore. It’s the middle of the night, but you have to apologize right now. You reach across him to turn on the light and your light movements jostle the bed enough to wake him. Although, from the look on his face, you suspect he wasn’t sleeping well either.

Jack sits up so that he’s facing you fully and eyes you with an arched brow, patiently waiting for you to speak. Meanwhile, you’re chewing at your bottom lip and struggling to find the right words to express yourself now that you’ve got his attention.

“Do you know why I like working with you?” you finally ask, measuring each word carefully. “You’ve never doubted my abilities as an agent. Not because I’m a woman or because of any other stupid reason. You’ve always made me feel like your equal. Until today.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Truly, I am,” he answers seriously. His accent lacks the usual playful tone. “For a moment there I was sure I was going to lose you and I panicked, and I know now I should’ve listened to you. But please believe me when I say that I’ve never doubted you. Not once. The only thing I doubted today was my ability to keep you safe.”

“That’s not your job,” you assert. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” Jack responds sternly. “You’re my partner.” 

You nod, acquiescing. You couldn’t argue with that even if you wanted to; his safety is just as important to you. You take a deep breath before continuing. This is always the hardest part. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I reacted today. I was frustrated and it could’ve cost us this mission.” 

“All is forgiven. You know that.” You sigh in relief when he hits you with one of his beaming smiles. The kind that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. “You gonna let me hold you now?” he asks as he relaxes back into the plush pillows, gesturing to the space beside him. “I don’t know if I can sleep without you anymore.”

“After two nights?” you ask teasingly with a soft laugh.

“Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time,” he says with a wicked grin. You can’t help but return the smile, knowing exactly what he means.

“Not yet,” you say coyly, summoning every ounce of courage you have before tentatively brushing your lips against his. You try to pull back so you can gauge his response, but there’s no need as he cups your face in his hands and brings your lips right back to his. This time the kiss is eager, hungry, and you return his enthusiasm with equal fervor. Your lips meld together perfectly and when his tongue slides into your mouth, you can’t help the little moan that escapes you. 

When you finally pull apart, gasping for air, you both break out into a fit of laughter. This was probably a long time coming and yet it managed to catch you both by surprise. He places a few imperfect kisses, warped only by his smile, across your face and you fall back into bed with him. 

The word love imprints itself into your mind as you hold his gaze, but you don’t speak it into existence. Not yet. Even though the look in his eyes tells you he’s thinking the exact same thing. You just know he is because after all these years together you can read Jack Daniels like a book. But this thing between you is new, precious even. Maybe it’s been there for a while, but you’re only just now ready to accept it and there’s no need to rush things. Better to let it mature in its own time because you know it’s going to age well, just like fine whiskey.

“Goodnight, Jack,” you whisper instead. You plant a light kiss on his soft lips, smiling as his mustache tickles you, before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

“I’m definitely going to sleep well now, my sweet girl,” He murmurs as he hugs you against him. In that moment you feel so safe, so cherished, so incredibly happy. Until- “Even if you do snore.”

“I do not!” you gasp and try to wriggle free so you can glare at him. He only laughs and holds you tighter, his arms wrapping firmly around you.

“Yeah, you do. Soft, little snores,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s cute.”

... . ...

Thanks for reading! 

Edit: find part two here!

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Special Guest

Florian Munteanu x reader

Warning: Smut, 18+, Florian in that grey jogging suit

A/N: There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember this is fiction, so in real life, make them wrap that before you let them tap that, okurrrrrt?!

Word Count: 3,814 [whoops!]

********

You shuffled into the lobby of the hotel and set down your bags down.

"Sorry, I'm late. There must be something big going on downtown, because traffic was ridiculous," you said as you pinned your name tag to your blazer. You quickly keyed in your code to clock in and turned to your coworker, Chanel. "Did I miss anything?"

"Did you miss anything? You're three minutes late, you've literally missed nothing." She playfully rolled her eyes. "You know, we get real sick of you being Miss Goody Two Shoes around here."

"Oh, I'm sorry my work ethic offends you ma'am," you laughed. The large figure sitting on the couch caught your eye, a guest sitting halfway off the sofa with his feet on the table. You inched around the large counter to make your way over to him.

"What are you doing?" Chanel grabbed you to stop you from approaching him. She knew the moment you noticed him you'd say something having no idea who he was.

"I'm gonna go ask him to get his feet off of the furniture if that's okay with you?" You pulled away and continued in his direction. Your shoes clacking loudly across the floor as you make your way over to him.

"Hi, sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your feet from the table. I can grab you a foot stool if your legs need to be elevated," you smiled sweetly.

He never looked up from his phone. You cleared your throat, but again he didn't budge. You turned to look back at Chanel who was watching you in horror.

You tapped his shoulder. This time he looked up at you and pulled his hood down, removing an airpod from his ear.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but may you please remove your feet from the table?" You clasped your hands together in front of you.

"Yep, sorry," he sat up and looked behind you, "the person I was waiting for is coming anyway," he stood.

You took a step back, "Oh shit, you're a giant," you clapped your hand over mouth. "Sorry, I did not mean to say that."

He looked at you and smiled.

"Oh wow," you said. You clamped your eyes shut. What the hell is wrong with you? You cleared your throat, "Um, yeah, so next time there's um, a foot stool you can use if you need to—"

A large shadow caught your attention. You turned to see the person he must have been waiting for coming closer.

"Oh my God, there are two of you," you inhaled sharply. Seriously, why couldn't you stop your thoughts from just tumbling from your mouth? You cleared your throat again deciding it was best to just walk away before you said something else silly. "You gentlemen enjoy your night."

Chanel watched you walk back over to the desk. You did your best to remain calm and hide the embarrassment that coursed through your veins. You pretended to type something on the screen as Florian and Masias walked towards the entrance.

"Enjoy your evening, Mr. Munteanu," Chanel called out to him.

Florian paused his stride and looked back, "Thank you and make sure you don't work too hard tonight, beautiful."

You stopped typing and looked up. He was looking at you and winked before he turned back around. Your breath caught in your throat and tongue snaked out to wet your lips.

Once they were completely outside you scurried around the desk.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Bathroom," you stomped down the hall. You opened the ladies room door and leaned against it. The coolness of it relieved your rising temperature. You pulled a few paper towels out, wet them and pressed them against your throat and neck.

You've worked at this hotel for three years and have seen your fair share of attractive men, but you've never had such a reaction to a single one the way you were having now. This Munteanu guy had you absolutely flustered...and horny. You shifted from one foot to the other as the cool air hit your damp panties.

"Shit," you sighed and went inside the stall to remove them. Thank goodness you decided to wear thigh highs instead of tights under your skirt today. You tucked the thin material in the pocket of your blazer and headed back up front.

********

"You know what the problem is? It's been too long since you've been laid." Chanel said as she dropped a handful of M&M's into her mouth. Ever since you came back from the bathroom, she wouldn't lay off about how you'd made an absolute ass of yourself.

"Why can't you let it go?" You huffed.

"Because, you need to hear it. I say you fuck him," she shrugged.

"Chanel! I don't know that man and he is a customer." You couldn't believe her. She knew you well enough to know that there was absolutely no way you'd have sex with a total stranger.

"Even better; no strings attached, just sex. Consider him a special guest.” There was that Cheshire cat grin again, “Also, judging by the print he had in those gray sweats, if he knows how to use that thing, it'll be good sex. Plus, he has big hands." She wiggled her fingers.

"For the love of god, would you please knock it off?" You grabbed the duster and walked away. You couldn't take any more of her. Mostly because everything she was saying you'd already thought of and you needed those thoughts to stop.

Having meaningless sex was not something you'd ever done and having sex with guests of the hotel was simply out of the question.

You saw Chanel making her way towards you. You rolled your eyes. She was seriously crossing the line. It's not as if she cared. She prided herself on being your "tell it like it is" friend and getting you to step outside of your safe zone. She could be messy and annoying at times, but you loved her all the same.

"Don't come over here with your mess, Nell," you continue to wipe.

"Girl please," she waved you off, "all I'm saying is, you need to live a little. You clearly got his attention."

"Yeah, I'm sure a lot of women has his attention. He's very attractive and probably flirts with anything that has a pulse," you looked at her.

"So?"

"So, I'm not trying to be another notch on this man's belt."

"A notch on his—what are you 50?" She doubled over in laughter. You couldn't help but laugh with her. The phrase was a little dated, but she knew what you meant.

A few late check-ins filed into the lobby, so you both went back into professional mode. You kept your focus on the guests in front of you as you helped them as best you could, but your mind would never stray far from Mr. Munteanu.

********

Florian and his friends had finally returned from their night out. You took a deep breath, smiled politely and greeted them as you would any other entering guests. Masias was obviously a little tipsy and was loud and giggly.

"Go talk to her," he whispered loudly.

"You need to go talk to some toothpaste, Masias." Florian put his hand up. They had another person with them this time who assured Florian that he had Masias. Florian doubled back to the desk and stopped in front of you. "Um, hi."

"Hello, Mr. Munteanu, how may I assist you?" You asked.

"Just wondering if you could possibly send someone up with extra trash bags and a can to 804? He's going to need it."

"Absolutely, sir, may I help you with anything else?" You looked down at your screen to type the memo out for housekeeping to drop those items off to his room.

"Florian."

"Excuse me?" You glanced up at him.

"My name is Florian. You don't have to keep calling me sir," he smiled.

"I am an employee and you are a guest. It would be very unprofessional of me to call you by your first name... Sir." You smiled innocently.

His smile wavered. He couldn't tell if you were flirting or giving him attitude, but he just made up his mind to find out.

You stared him in the eye. You weren't showing that you were flustered like you were earlier. You had prepared yourself just in case he came back.

He chuckled. "Okay, have it your way Miss," he peeked at your name tag, "Y/N. You have a nice night, dragă meă." He walked away.

"You too, sir," you spoke to his back.

********

"Hey, where have you been?" You asked Chanel when she returned to the station.

"Oh, I took that stuff up to 804," she smiled slyly.

"That's Tony's job."

"Yeah, and I did my coworker a favor while he was on break. I was standing there when the memo came through."

"Mmm hmm, so why are you just now returning? That was 30 minutes ago," you raised a brow.

Chanel's face lit up like a Christmas tree. You groaned.

"Nell, you didn't!"

"Would you calm down? He was too drunk to take it too far."

"Too drunk? I talked to Florian, he wasn't all that drunk." You said.

"Florian? Y'all on a first name basis now."

"No, I— he just told me what it was. That slipped." You explained.

"Mmm hmm, well it wasn't Florian. It was his cute friend, Masias. I would've sucked the skin off of his dick too if the other guy hadn't been there."

You just shook your head and laughed. This girl was a hot mess.

"I'm gonna go lock up the pool. Please stay put until I get back."

You made the short trip to the pool, but before putting the code in, you peeked through the glass to see if anything needed to be picked up. This was someone else's job, but of course they never did what they were supposed to do.

You saw a towel and a pair of slides, so you slipped in to tell whoever it was that it was time for you to lock up. When you got close enough, they popped up to the surface with a large splash getting you wet.

You yelped. He turned to look at you.

"Um, sir, it's time for the pool to close," you said swiping at the wet spots on your blouse and skirt.

"I'll be right out," he said.

Your head snapped up at the sound of Florian's voice. He lifted his large frame out of the water near you. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe. Damn, he was a lot of man.

You picked up the towel and handed it to him, unable to peel your gaze away from him as he dried himself off.

"Like what you see?" He asked.

"What?" You shook your head pulling yourself from the trance, "no, I, um... absolutely not."

"Are you always so uptight?"

"Are you always such a jerk?" You frowned. "I'll come back in five minutes. If you're still in here, I will lock you in." You turned to walk away.

"No, no, no, wait. I'm sorry, dragă meă, I shouldn't have said that." He grabbed your hand before you could get too far.

"What does that mean?" You questioned.

"What?"

"Draga may-ya?" You spoke slowly. He laughed at your pronunciation. You turned your head to the side and jutted out a hip, "really?" You smirked.

"You did your best and it was cute as hell. It means my darling."

"Mmm hmm, is that the universal nickname you give all women?"

"Nope, had that one saved up just for you," he pulled you close to him. You'd forgotten until that moment that he was still holding on to your hand.

Your other hand came up and rested on his chest. He flexed his pecs beneath you.

"Oh, sweet lord," you tried to move away, but he held on to you. "Um, this is very inappropriate, Mr. Munteanu. And you're getting me all wet."

"Oh, am I?" He raised a brow.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"I think it is," he ran his free hand over your ass and then down into your skirt. Your breath caught in your throat when he cupped your bare ass.

He slid his fingers between your cheeks, rubbed over your wet slit and pressed down on your clit.

"Did I tell you that you could touch me?" You pressed your forehead into his chest.

He stopped pressing on your clit, but never removed his hand from your skirt.

"I could stop or I could make you have the best orgasm of your life. Which would you like?" He asked.

You started laughing. Your body shook lightly as you pushed away from him. He looked confused. It was as if something within you had snapped.

"You men are all the same, always promising the best orgasms when you can't manage to even locate a g-spot."

"Are you challenging me?" His voice dropped an octave and his accent grew thicker.

You looked him in his eyes to let him know you were serious.

"Absolutely."

He wasted no time throwing you over his large shoulder and carrying you into the locker room. He sat you down on a bench and pushed your skirt up around your waist. He crouched down in front of you and put your legs over his shoulders.

"When this is over, the only thing you'll be able think about is Big Nasty." His eyes had gone from hazel green to nearly black. Completely darkened by lust.

"You talk too much," you said as you grabbed the back of his head and forced it between your thighs.

Florian sucked your clit into his mouth, using his tongue to brush over it lightly causing your legs to shake just a little. He stopped sucking with a loud pop from his mouth. You pushed him back down and thrust your hips forward. When he sucked it back into his mouth, you pulled away.

"Mmm, yesssss," you mewled as you repeated the movements. The loud sucking sounds bounced off the metal in the empty room.

He growled deep in his chest before he started rolling his tongue over your clit and sliding a thick finger inside of you. You inhaled sharply and caught your lip in between your teeth. He pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding another.

You scratched at his head as he went back to flicking his tongue over your clit.

"Oh god," you cried out as your orgasm built. Your legs shook and Florian picked up the pace.

"You gonna cum for me, dragă meă? Hmm?" He wasn't expecting you to answer him; he already knew what it was.

He felt you tighten around his fingers. It made his dick hard thinking about how you would feel wrapped around him.

"Yes, yes, yes!!" You dug your nails into his shoulder as you quivered into your release.

He watched you as you bathed in ecstasy. Your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He reached up and slowly unbuttoned your shirt. He opened it to reveal a simple black bra.

Florian leaned over you and softly kissed each of the smooth mounds before moving to your stomach and then back down to your clit. You flinched due to still being sensitive from your orgasm.

He did it again just to see the same reaction. He smiled.

"Don't be so cocky. You did okay at best," you rolled your eyes.

That triggered him. This time, you watched his pupils dilate and he grabbed your ankle to pull you closer.

"I think I've figured you out," he said as he pulled his hard dick from his shorts. "You've never been fucked the right way," he stroked himself.

Your eyes bulged at the sight of him and your mouth suddenly went dry. There was no way he could fuck you without hurting you. You tried to move, but he held on.

"Don't run now. You talk shit and now you need to back it up." He pushed your legs back and rubbed himself up and down your wet slit.

Your pussy contracted with anticipation. The fear of pain turning into excitement within seconds. He pressed his forehead to yours as he pushed inside of you slowly.

Placing your hands on each side of his face, you let out a loud hiss.

"I'm going to fill you up now, prințesă."

You shuttered as he slid into you further. Gradually stretching you to accommodate his entry. He finally bottomed out and you lost it.

"Ooooh, fuck!" You yelled as you came for the second time.

You dug your nails into his neck.

When you finally opened your eyes he was looking at you with a smirk on his face as he slowly pulled out until just the tip of him was in.

"Um, that's never happened be—"

He drove back into you at full speed cutting off your sentence. He fucked you hard and fast. He moved one hand above your head for support and moved the other to your throat squeezing lightly.

"Harder, harder, harder!" You chanted. He granted your wish and applied more pressure, but making sure not to hurt you.

"I knew you had it in you, Dragă meă. Walking around here with no panties, likes to be choked; it's always the quiet ones." He could feel you tightening around him. "Look at you, a mess, getting ready to cum again. But what if I don't want you to?" He pulled out completely and loosened his grip a little.

"No, no, no, please!" You were on the verge of tears. "Why did you do that?" You tried to sit up, but he pushed you back down tightening his grip on your throat again.

"I didn't tell you to move," he slipped his hand under your bra and pinched your nipple. You moaned as the mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through your body. Between his choking and pinching, you couldn't resist reaching down to rub your clit.

Florian watched as you played with yourself. His mouth watered a little at the sight. He wanted that pussy back into his mouth, but he controlled himself.

"Yeah, play with that tight pussy. That’s my pussy now. Make it wetter for me." His dick twitched as he watched you.

You could feel yourself getting ready to cum again, so you stopped and slapped your clit lightly. You wanted him inside of you again.

"Please, Florian, I want you. I need you," you tell him.

You used two fingers to spread your slick covered lips to invite him inside. He wasted no time penetrating your slick cunt. You mewled as he slowly slipped in. He latched his mouth onto yours swallowing your moans.

Florian broke the kiss and started swearing in Romanian. You didn't know what he was saying, but it was turning you on even more.

"Yessss, baby, give me all of that good dick."

He pulled out and flipped you over. He stood you up and bent you over, so your hands were planted on the bench. He slid back into you with one hand on your hip and the other clutching the band of your bra.

"Play with that pussy," he demanded.

You immediately rubbed your clit.

He put one foot up on the bench and invaded your core as much as he could.

"Good girl, prințesă. You take me so well."

The sound of your bodies joining, your loud moans and the squelch of your soaking cunt created a symphony of pleasure.

Your legs began shaking again. He put his arm around your waist to help hold you up.

"Yes, Flo!! Fuck me, baby!" You started cumming.

He started losing control as you squeezed around him. His hips stuttered and he growled deep in his chest. You heard him calling for god just before he pulled out quickly and finished all over your ass and pussy.

He slapped his still fully erect dick on your glistening cunt and then rubbed the tip from one hole to another.

You both breathed heavily. He turned you to face him before taking you into his arms and kissing you deeply.

"I really should get back out there," you said and moved from his lap. Your legs wobbled beneath you as you tried to stand. You quickly recovered using his towel to clean yourself off and button your shirt back up.

Florian took his time putting his shorts back on. He placed his feet in his shoes and followed you out. The elevator and lobby were in opposite directions, but before you parted ways, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to him.

"Hey, look at me," he said and lifted your chin. "You didn't have a good time?"

"I had a great time...like a really great time, but it's over now, so..."

"Who says it's over? I'll be here for the next few days. Can I take you out on another date?"

"Another date?? This doesn't count as a date, Florian," you scrunched your face.

"You're cute," he laughed. "It absolutely counts as a date. It's the best first date I've ever had."

"That's not funny," you pinched his arm.

"No, really, I would love to see you tomorrow. Please?" He looked so innocent.

"I'm off at 7am," you smiled at him.

"I'll see you then," he leaned down to kiss your lips. He watched as you walked away. "Are you sure you don't want to come up with me?"

"Good night, Mr. Munteanu," you said over your shoulder. You heard him chuckle as he stepped onto the elevator.

********

"Mmm hmm, and where have you been?" Chanel asked the moment you came around the corner.

"Locking up the pool," you said casually.

"Riiight, the pool passing out hickeys now?"

You ran over to the mirror, "What?! He didn't even —" you stopped talking when you saw nothing there. You squeezed your eyes shut. She played you.

"I knew it, I knew it!!!" She jumped up and down. "You have to tell me how it was. I know that dick was fire just by the way he carries himself. He drips big dick energy."

You looked around before speaking, "It was incredible and I never wanted to stop." You blurted out.

"So is this like a one night thing or are you gonna get more before he leaves?"

"He wants to go out tomorrow," you said.

She jumped for joy again. You couldn't figure why she was acting this way. It hadn't been that long since you dated... has it? You dismissed your friend. You weren't even going to attempt to do any work. It was useless. The only thing on your mind was Florian and your date tomorrow. You couldn’t keep yourself from smiling.

[just-a-writing-fan]

Stark Contrast Ch2

Warnings: abuse, drug use, drug selling, sexual abuse, underaged girl making drinks, drinking, cursing, fire

Pairing: none yet

"Y/N, stay here or walk around just do whatever and leave me alone," your mom walks away into the crowd at the party. "Mommy, I was telling you what happened." "Okay, okay, what happened Honey?" She tries to sound as though she cares. "Dakota-" "Yeah, yeah, that's nice," she rushes off once she spots what she came here for. It was the white powdered stuff she liked.

You looked around, this place, this party was filled with glamorous people, gowns and heels and diamond tennis bracelet and Chanel watches with gold bands and diamonds inside, perfectly personally tailored suits. You were nine but you knew things. Like you knew how to make a mean mixed drink or two, you knew this stuff wasn't Goody powder like she said because when you asked her if you could have some for a headache she said no, and you knew how to play piano, you knew how to fix things and you knew brands. Brands that you would never wear, although you did dream of it. You looked around, several women were decked out in Versace, some in Louis Vuitton, some Dolce & Gabanna, Chanel, the men were as well; thier wrists choked in Rolexs and shoes shined to perfection. You had to let your eyes wander in admiration. You hoped someday you might wear a dress that pretty or wear rings like those on your fingers. You and Essie had a dream wedding journal with cutouts from magazine adds and you promised each other someday you would go to each other's weddings. You must have been very distracted noticing those things because the next thing you knew you had fallen and landed on your butt.

"Hey kid, I'm sorry," a man was above you and offering you a hand. You glance up, your eyes stretch. It was him. The man in the polaroid picture. Dolce & Gabanna, red and floral; black velvet lace rose print paired with shiny black shoes. Did he choose that? You noticed his hair and his eyes, bark brown hair spiked to perfection and big brown eyes, thick lashes. "Need help up?" You nod and accept his hand, "Thankyou," you smile. "Sure thing, who are you here with?" "My mommy" "Okay, be careful," he smiles and someone must have called him over. "Ey! Tony! Come show us what you' got man!" "Coming," he goes to the man with a hearty chuckle.

You don't know why you took out your flip phone and started recording a video. Maybe it was excitement that this was your first phone Dakota had gotten you and your sister, or maybe it's just that you think this Tony might be something to you. You start recording him at a table, his smile literally was lighting the room, his laughter seemed contagious to everyone around him. He was so happy from the outside, from what anyone here would assume. Did your mom know he was here? Is that why she came? No, she didn't even know your dad's name, it was the "Goody Powder" she wanted.

"BECAUSE IM WANTED! WAAANTEEDD! DEAD OR ALIVE!! IM A COWBOY!" Tony sang at the top of his lungs after he bent over and snorted some of that white stuff. "ON A STEEL HORSE I RIDE!!"

"Come on," your mom comes up behind you and grabs your shoulder, "let's go. Mommy, it's him." "Ahuh, yeah," she wipes the cocaine off of her nose. "Mommy, can I tell you what Dakota d-" "Y/N, just please shut up."

---------------

"Esmeralda, you are my favorite you know that?" You watch Dakota whisper into her ear, again, as the three of you made dinner. "What about me?" You butt in. "Oh, you are my Babygirl," he comes over to place a kiss on your lips. "What's that?" You point with your head to the test tubes and things he had scattered all over the table. There were needles as well, giant rubber bands.

"oh, those are your mom's," he replied shortly. "No, those are hers," Essie points to some pills and a few needles in the living room on the coffee table.

"Alright, it is a science project. I'm making something that not only will pay rent this month, but, it will be revolutionary! I'll be loaded," his face is taken over by a giant toothy smile as he speaks through his teeth so as to not wake your mother who was passed out on the sofa again. He holds a test tube up and clanked his finger onto the glass and swishes the liquid in it around then kisses the bottle. That smile still there among the thick stubble on his face. "Go wash up and put on something pretty ladies, I'll finish up dinner then I will take care of you two and wake your mom up so we can eat."

"What should we wear?" "The little numbers I bout you last week," Esmeralda grabs your arm and pulls you to the bedroom. Your attention was watching Dakota while he put corks onto the test tubes and put them into his tool box for work.

"Girls! It's been 15 minutes! I'm ready and if we don't hurry the food will get cold!! Let me see my pretty girls!!"

Your sister stepped out first, wearing the skirt he bought her, "pull it up some, turn around," she does as told and he smiles, "you young lady are going to school wherever you want. Sit on my lap," he says as he finishes cooking.

"What?" Your mom sat up, holding her forehead. "I need a smoke," she lights a cigarette and let's her arm fall limp over the side of the couch.

"Y/N, come help me season this," you nod and join him by the stove. He moves you in front of him, "you aren't wearing what I bought you," he whispers near your ear through gritted teeth as he pulls your hips tight and presses your backside against him, "I'll take care of you later-," you knew that tone. "Wait, what is that?" You hear him sniff the air so you do the same. "Shit! Essie, run!! Get out, go!!! Lana!!" He forgot all about what was going on. The room was in flames.

You turn to find the living room to be the source, "Essie, get out!!" "Not without you!!" "I'll be right behind you!!" Dakota had woken your mother and gone downstairs. "What happened!?" "Mommy's cigarette started a fire! Get out!!" You ran downstairs coughing just as all the neighbors were.

"Girls alright?" "Yeah, yeah we're fine. Y/N, are you okay?" "I have to go get him," you find yourself remembering something you had forgotten. "Who!?"

"A dog! Really!? You ran into a burning building for a dog!!!?" Your sister scolds you. You said nothing and placed the dog down and watched it run back to your neighbor.

"Thankyou, thankyou," you can only nod and the local paper reporter surrounded you for photos. "How old are you!?" "12?" You cover your eyes from the flashes. "Why did you go back in!?" "I had to get him."

[theobaldhoratio]

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[moonlightskids]

shall we

fluff (long poly au)

i.

the pool water is cold against your warm skin, the reflects on it giving it a crystal effect, it’s a perfect summer day at the bang’s house. the big patio is full of rowdy boys, well, there’s only nine of them but they’re as loud as a hord of teenagers. jisung and jeongin are yelling the lyrics of the song coming from the sound system, doing a rather ridiculous interpretation, while woojin and felix are just staring at them from the tanning chairs, joining once in a while to add an equally ridiculous high note. a giggle scapes your lips as you keep your eyes on your childhood friends.

all of you grew up together on the same block, a neighborhood full of big houses and ostentatious cars, all kids of rich families, who sent their kids to the same private schools, invited to the same fancy parties and matching high brand fits.

turning to your left you find chan, changbin and minho carrying enough drinks and snacks for your always hungry group, there’s pastries and fruits, even some alcohol, chan’s mom really is the best. inside the luxurious home you can see the integral kitchen from outside, seungmin is helping miss bang with the food, which isn’t surprising, seungmin is what moms call: a perfect son in law, at least your mom does, and he’s not even your boyfriend. you sigh at the thought, the idea of dating any of your close friends has always been one that gave you an itchy feeling, but lately, since seungmin came back from america, after a whole semester studying there, you can’t help but think about him differently.

you shake the thought away as you hear the door bell echo through the two story house, after a minute hyunjin walks into the patio, only wearing his swim suit and a sleeveless tank top. everyone has changed since you started college, but hyunjin, he did a whole 180 change. not because he wasn’t handsome before, but in high school he used to give this prince like vibe, that would make your heart jump in your ribcage. now in college, with longer hair and muscled arms, it doesn’t just make your heart go crazy, but your whole body.

“y/n”, hyunjin is shaking a hand in front of your face, a smirk on his stupid lips, “like what you see?”, god you wish you could wipe that expression off his face, “and i haven’t even taken my shirt off yet”

“huh!, you wish”, you’re not a good liar, but you try your best, “i was just looking at the snacks”, you say motioning at seungmin who’s walking in with a tray of food.

“you hear that, seungmin”, yells jisung from the other side of the patio, where they’ve stopped giving an improvised concert, “y/n just called you a snack”, there’s a mischievous smile in his squirrel like face and you curse the day you decided to tell, jisung of all people, of your little crush on your childhood friend.

the heat rushes to your cheeks and you shake your head agressively, “I DIDNT SAY THAT”, you wish you could just drown on chan’s pool right now, “i meant the food”, your words come out as a whisper and you can hear the boys behind you snickering.

“too late, y/n, there’s no saving now”, your defeated sigh is all they need, god, how you hate losing to this losers. looking up, seungmin is still standing there, a soft red on his cheeks. when his eyes find yours, he clears his throat and ends his walk to the table were the rest of the snacks and drinks are. admitting your lost you make your way out of the pool before the hynas you call friends finish all the food.

“so, i have a proposition”, felix interrupts the silent session of stuffing your faces, everyone stops chewing, waiting for him to continue.

“if this is anything like that one time jisung proposed to go camping and instead we ended up lost in the forest for five hours, i don’t wanna know”, everyone agrees with woojin’s statement, that day was no fun. camping was ok but going for a walk inside the dark forest when no one knows any survival skills wasn’t. jisung rolls his eyes at the mention of his infamous idea, “can you guys get over it already? we’re fine”

“yeah, not thanks to you”, jeongin adds, earning a not so threatening look from his hyung.

“anyways”, felix continues, “my dad bought this new cabin, how about we spend a weekend there?, we can swim in the lake, roast some marshmallows, share horror stories...”

“get eaten by a bear”, this time is you who interrupts.

“well”, starts chan, “if things comes to worst, we’ll just sacrifice jisung”, everyone nods in agreement (except jisung for obvious reasons), and it gets settled, this weekend, you’re going to felix’s cabine in the woods and if life’s good enough, you might even get ridden of jisung.

ii.

friday comes by fast, like everything when you’re not drowning in essays and presentations. sitting on bed, you make a list of all the things you need to take and have packed while you wait for jisung to pick you up. there’s bikinis, towell, food, comfy pijamas, repelent and your charger. but your mind is somewhere else. a whole weekend, no parents, alcohol and a crush on your childhood friend is never a good combination. jisung barges into your room making you jump, a scowl on your face.

“god jisung”, you frown at his smile, it’s bigger than usual, “what’s with you?”

“i have a plan”, he says as he starts going back downstairs with your way too big bag for just a weekend. following closely behind him, you try not to fall from the new imperial stairs that had been changed while you were away for college.

“what do you mean a plan?”, instead of answering, your best friend throws your bag in the back and opens the front door for you. you go in and wait for him to do the same, “jisung”, you whine, god his plans are never good.

when you’re finally on the road, which only lasts a few minutes as you park infront of hyunjin’s house and wait for him, he finally speaks, “i know how to make your crush on our friend work”, he moves his eyesbrows suggestively, he knows about your crush on hyunjin too? you stare at his front door anxiously, you really don’t want him to know.

“how do you know about my crush on hyunjin?”, you whisper yell as quietly as possible, when you see his eyes open widely you know you’ve fucked up.

“i- YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON HYUN-“, covering his mouth with your hand as fast as possible you shush him, only letting go when you’ve seen he’s calmed down.

“ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod”, your head hitting jisung’s expensive mercedes window, god you’re such an idiot. he starts laughing, you’re so annoyed you would kick him out of the car and leave him there if it weren’t because you don’t have your drivers license yet.

“god, y/n, i was talking about seungmin, but i can’t believe you ALSO have a crush on hyunjin. i mean, i get it, puberty did hit them hard, but two of our childhood friends?”, you groan, great, of all people, he has to be the one who knows about both of your crushes. you should have spent the summer with your parents in the maldives instead of staying here, god stupid friendship promises.

before you can continue the conversation, hyunjin walks out of the mansion, and he’s not alone, of course seungmin is with him, with a simple hi, the both of them climb into the car. jisung is enjoying this too much, making faces at you everytime any of the boys a knowledges your presence. the two hours drive to the cabine is pure torture, after the conversation, you can’t help but blush everytime any of their eyes crosses with yours.

after what it feels like an eternity, jisung finally parks infront of the cabine, you’re the last ones to arrive. chan’s unloading all the bags from his truck, a smile in his face as he watches you climb down the car.

“hey, how was the trip”, his voice is sweet like always and you watch him juggle 4 louis vuitton bags in his arms as you carry your chanel one, high brand bags to a cabine in the woods, god us rich really are annoying.

“a torture”, is all you say as you make your way inside as fast as possible. as soon as you go in, you find the rest of the boys unpacking the food in the kitchen, all except jeongin who’s sitting with felix in the livingroom organizing the video games, “hey”, you greet them collectively, sitting on the sofa infront of the tv and sighing deeply.

“you know”, minho says from the kitchen, “you could come and help”, he’s standing in the entrance, bags of snack on his arms.

“i wish i could, but i don’t want to”, at your answer, minho rolls his eyes and continues with the work.

“spoiled brat”, you hear him say under his breath and you chuckle. “we all are, minho”. when the rest of the boys are finally inside, felix stops what he’s doing to give everyone a tour. the cabine is smaller than you expected from his dad, but still big enough to show off. it has four rooms, five bathrooms, a big kitchen and an even bigger livingroom inside, outside there’s a jacuzzi, a bonfire place, chairs, tables and infront, a lake.

“so this is how it works”, felix starts, “two rooms of three and two rooms of two. since this is my cabine, i choose a double bedroom, changbin hyung and i can share”, changbin is such a lucky bastard.

“as the oldest”, woojin speaks before anyone else has a chance, “i’ll have the other double one and i’ll share with chan”, both boys high five at their stupid privilege. god, old people are the worst. that leaves six people, jisung, minho, jeongin, hyunjin, seungmin and you.

without losing time, jisung interjectes, “rock, paper, scissors?”, everyone agrees. and of course, with your luck, you end up paired with both hyunjin AND seungmin. three scissors and three rocks, what are the fucking odds?

iii.

after unpacking and changing at light speed so you could get out of the room before any of the boys could say anything to you, you sit on one of the logs scattered outside the house, there’s a big crystal window that separates the livingroom from the bonfire place. the flames are high enough to almost be scary and they warm your body. you sigh, life was so much easier when you were kids. hanging out every day after class, helping each other with homework, running away from the fancy parties after woojin finally got his license, 10 people in his father’s five seat bmw, only caring about the now; now, is all about the future, what you’re studying, what position you will taking on your parent’s company, will you still be able to see each other, who you gonna marry...

the crystal door rolls to the side and hyunjin exits the house, taking a sit next to you, his smile is so big, his eyes dissapear and you feel literal butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

“beer?”, he’s holding two bottles and you take one, if you’re gonna have to deal with your feelings tonight, you might as well get (a little) drunk. a shocked noise comes from his throat when you down it all in one go.

“everything ok?”, hyunjin’s face is formed into a worried expression. you sigh, why does everything has to be so complicated. looking anywhere but his concerned expression, you lock eyes with seungmin, that’s sitting right infront of you. the flames of the bonfire make his face look distorted but you can still make out his factions. the baby cheeks he used to have are gone, leaving him with high cheek bones and a strong jaw, his eyes still have his soft puppy look, but his long hair makes his turn from good kid to reckles teen too obvious.

he smiles at you, the action sending goosebumps down your spine making you shiver. hyunjin most misinterprete your reaction cause he puts an arm around your shoulder, trying to shield you from the cold breeze that wasn’t bothering you at all. but you let him, cause it feels nice. you’re too distracted in hyunjin’s arms to notice seungmin’s frown from across the patio.

the night is fun, you spend hours drinking and talking and playing stupid high school party games with your friends. at one point jisung is so drunk he willingly gets his clothes off and throws himself into the freezing lake, for your friendship, of course, and woojin, who you have never seen this wasted, starts crying over his master and how he’s gonna have to move to england for two years to keep his studies (he’s not the only one that cries). and now, yourself, you drank so many beers you’re staring to see things multiplicated, has jeongin always had two heads.

hyunjin seems to notice the weird look you’re giving your friend and with a chuckle he helps you up with one hand and starts guiding you inside, “i’m taking y/n to bed”, you hear a chorus of ‘goodnights’ and turn around in time to not miss the suggestive look jisung throws your way, you hate his stupid ass.

the walk up the stairs is a whole odyssey. at some point hyunjin has to carry you cause you’re unable to move your feet correctly. laying you on your bed, he helps you out of your shoes, from where you are, you can see his face perfecly, the long hair glistens with moonlight and your eyes fix on his plump pink lips, you’re so drunk you’ll totally kiss him right now if your heart wasn’t too scared of his reaction.

his face is centimeters away from yours, “you should go to sleep”, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “y/n... are you listening?”, you nod and his face turns into a sweet smile that dissapears as soon as his eyes land on your parted lips.

he’s done with your shoes and instead of sitting next to you he hovers over you, one arm on each of your side, making your body lean back. he’s close enough to even make your drunk self flustered. without a word, his face leans on you and he’s kissing you, it’s a rough kiss, his lips move fast and harsh against yours. somehow you move into the pillow, his arms around your waist and yours holding his shirt tightly. you’re starting to fall asleep, but the feeling of hyunjin’s lips is too addicting to ask him to stop. every now and then his teeth grace your lower lip making you sigh and hold tighter.

“i love you, y/n”, is the last thing you hear before falling asleep, your head on his chest and his face on your hair.

iv.

“YOU DID WHAT?”, jisung’s voice boom’s through out your empty house. You’ve had arrived from the cabin last night and now you’re sitting on the livingroom with your best friend, “HE SAID WHAT NOW?”

“goodness jisung, can you stop screaming”, your voice sounds exasperated, you’re waiting for the boys to come for the sleepover you’re having, one last hang out before everyone has to go back to college, and you have no intention in letting anyone know what happened in the cabin, “hyunjin kissed me and told me he loved me and now i don’t know what to do”

“well”, jisung speaks after a minute at a normal volume now, “how do you feel about it?”, how are you supposed to feel about it, you’ve had a crush on hyunjin since you were kids when he used to always bring you a flower when he’ll come to visit you and the way he acts with you helps in no way, and of course, as someone you’ve had in your life for so long, you love him, “you’re smiling...”, your eyes go back to your best friends who’s looking at you with a curious tint in his eyes, one that makes me you blush, “... but what about seungmin?”

a deep sigh scapes your lips, what about him... is not like he’s ever shown any interest in you, at least not like that and god knows how long you’ve been waiting for something to happen, but now that hyunjin had confessed, did it really make sense to keep waiting for seungmin. jisung seems to know your feelings without you even voicing them. he seems like he wants to say something, comfort you, but just like you, he doesn’t find the right words.

“i just don’t know”, your words come out as a whisper and your best friend just nods in understanding, honestly, jisung wouldn’t know what to do in that situation either, but he still has friend duties, so trying to lift the mood, he stands up and plays some music, a mischievous smile on his face and an extended hand. without a word you take it, letting him guide you as you dance as ridiculous as you can to every song that plays.

“you know”, you stop your pathetic attempt of moon walking to look bach at jisung, “back in middle school, i used to have a crush on you”

“in middle school??”, you choke with your own saliva and try to imagine chubby jisung and his big black glasses having a crush on you, “i know...”, and the both of you are laughing again, so hard you end up laying on the floor of your livingroom, “love you, ji”, he nods, looking back at you, “i know”

your emotional moment gets cut short by your doorbell, some seconds letter a group of eight loud boys enter the room, arms full of food and drinks, ready to start this party.

v.

the party doesn’t go as you expected. you thought you’ll spend most of it talking with hyunjin, trying to figure out where you stand, but instead, you’re uncappable to torn your eyes away from seungmin. he’s quieter than usual, fidgeting with his fingers while sitting next to chan who’s engrossed in a conversation with changbin.

now and then he looks up at you, avoiding your eyes as soon as he notices them on him, you’re starting to get impatient, maybe you just need a moment for yourself. standing up you make your way upstairs to your room, the only place free of your friends. not even a minute later you feel the door open behind you and seungmin walks in slowly.

his eyes scan your room, “it look different”, his words are simple but they streak hard. you had made a lot of changes to your room right bedore going to college, the boys had helped you to redecorate but seungmin had left sooner to start his time in london, so he had never seen the changes or your changes, just like you hadn’t seen his.

“yeah, we’ve all changed”, he nods, taking a seat next to you. his eyes are on you and you try your best to hold his look. he seems to be weighing his options and after a minute that feels like an eternity, he finally speaks.

“ok, here goes nothing”, with a deep breath, he speaks again, “i like you”, there’s a long moment of silence. what are you supposed to say, you already confessed to hyunjin that night at felix’s cabine and even if you do have feelings for seungmin too, how are you supposed to reciprocate to both of them. the frustration seems to reflect on your face as seungmin sighs defeated. “i get it, i should have known when i saw you and hyunjin sleeping together”, his voice is low and fragile and your heart clutches at the sad puppy eyes he’s giving you. “i just thought it was worth the try, you know? and with the way jisung was acting, i really thought i had a chance”

he saw that?, you were so drunk, after you fell asleep on hyunjin’s arm, all you remember is waking up to an empty room, you just thought he had slept somewhere else.

your heart jumps to your throat and all the times seungmin ever casted a look on you come to your mind, you imagined the way he looked at you was one of a brother to a sister but now. your hand wraps arouns his arm, his skin is soft and warm and you pull him to you before he can walk out of your room, “but seungmin”, your free hand traces the side of his cheek and you watch as he closes his eyes and leans on your touch, “i do like you, a lot”

“you do?”, his eyes open in surprise, “but you and hyunjin...”

“i like him too, that’s why i don’t know what to do”, you step away, moving back on your bed, “i don’t wanna hurt any of you”, in silence seungmin moves to sit back next to you.

“it’ll hurt me more to not have any of you at all than just half”, seungmin covers the distance between you two to kiss you. different from hyunjin, seungmin’s lips are warm and the way he kisses you is soft and sweet, his hands on your cheeks push your hair out of your face and he deepens the kiss using his tongue. the feeling that fill your stomach when he touches you is like a hot chocolate after a long walk in a snowy day, your heart is beating at a steady pace making you relax your arms around his neck and bring him even closer to you. the way seungmin’s lips move against yours makes you sigh in content. pulling away you earn a cute whine from him that makes you smile, why does he have to be so damn cute.

“now what?”, your voice is muffled agaisnt his lips. someone clears his throat and by the way seungmin reacts, moving back surprised, you can tell is not him. moving away you turn around to find hyunjin standing at the door. more than a hurt expression, than you expected from someone who had find the person he loves kissing someone else, there’s a look of realization on his face, a smile tugging at his plump lips.

“now you choose”, his voice sounds like he’s having fun, shaking your head you start replying only to get interrupted by hyunjin away, who walks inside and sits on your other side, “i meant seungmin”, the look of confusion most be obvious on yours and seungmin’s face cause hyunjin finally decides to elaborate, “you like both of us and we both like you. i’m okay with sharing you, if he’s ok with it too”, your eyes go from hyunjin to seungmin who’s looking at the both of you like he’s already decided.

“i already told her, i’m rather have half than none”, his voice is a whisper and you really can’t believe what’s happening, “but, we have to share and what about her”, what about you????

hyunjin smirks, leaning in to get between seungmin and you, “she’ll have to share too”, at his word both of the boys turn to look at you, “is that okay?”, and you nod without thinking, is ut okay to be with both of your childhood friends at the same time? you’re not sure, will a poly relationship actually work when you haven’t even had another relationship? you’ll have to see, all you know is, you’ll rather share them than don’t have them at all.

hyunjin smiles, that big one that makes his eyes disappear and stands up with you, “we should go back downstairs before they come looking for us”, you follow him to the door, only turning to look for seungmin, he’s righ behind you, showing all his teeth with the happy smile in his face. the three of you walk back into the livingroom where your friends have almost run out of food.

chan and changbin are still talking, the spot seungmin used to occupy is now filled with jeongin who seems to be ready to go to sleep, felix ans minho are sitted on the floor watching jisung lose pathetically in an arms match with woojin, but when you enter all eyes turn to you and your hands that are holding hyunjin, without thinking, jisung jumps in the air, an triumphant scream, “I KNEW IT, everyone pay now”, the room feels with groans as jeongin, felix, changbin and minho put fifties on jisung’s hand. you wait for an explanation, you eyebrow raised.

“jisung bet you’ll end up choosing hyunjin”, at least chan has the decency to sound embarrased as he too puts a fifty in your best friend’s hand, “we bet you’ll end up with seungmin”, he continues and you turn to look at the culprit of all your troubles who’s smiling maniatically.

“oh, c’mmon, i’ll take you out for ice cream”, rolling your eyes you let go of hyunjin to sit on the free sofa where both of your, now boyfriends, lay with you. and to your surprise, seungmin is the one to speak.

“she doesn’t need you to take her out for ice cream, she has us for that”, now’s everyone else’s time to be confused and the frowns deepen when seungmin leans down, an arm around your shoulder and gives your lips a sweet, short kiss, “right?”, you nod shyly, trying to hide your burning face from everyone’s eyes, “right”, this time, hyunjin puts a finger under your chin, lifting your face and kisses you, putting his arm over seungmin’s.

when you look back, everyone’s mouth is hanging, except for woojin’s who’s actually smiling, “which means”, he starts, an innocent smile on his face, “i win”, you open your eyes in surprise as you watch jisung give up his new earned fifties to the oldest on your group, who sends a wink your way, “now, i can take the three of you out for ice cream”, and you laugh, the three of you. what would you do without your friends.

m.list

[camillemontespan]

camille’s scrapbook [1: olivia’s speech]

I thought I would start this mini series about Camille’s scrapbook! This is really a way for me to put all Drake x Camille edits together and pair them with fics. The edits I’ve made are not very good, while the amazing edits are by @mskaneko​  - you will be able to spot the difference instantly. 

In my head canon, Camille loves to take photos of her family and puts them into a scrapbook which will be passed to her children when they’re older. These edits are the ‘photos’ she has collected over the years while there will be fics to pair with them. 

I’ll admit I’ve not enjoyed being part of this fandom for a long time due to negativity and seeing so many arguments on my dashboard. I needed to write some fluff so I’m on a mission to make my blog as positive and nice as possible, for myself and for my followers. This scrapbook series is a way to provide some fluff and sunshine within my little corner of tumblr. 

I will give credit to mskaneko when I use one of her edits - she is so talented and I recommend you check out her master list when you can!

Also, I’m not sure if this sort of idea has been done before. It probably has been and I can only apologise if you have done something similar. Feel free to message me if you have, I’m always open to chatting :)

Taggin’ those who like Drake x Camille. Tell me if you want on or off, I won’t mind!

@moonlightgem7 @emichelle @jovialyouthmusic @ibldw-main @saivilo @burnsoslow @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @notoriouscs @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @pedudley @msjr0119 @loveellamae @kingliam2019 @drakesensworld  @rainbowsinthestorm @pug-bitch @katedrakeohd​ 

**********************************************

Camille sat cross legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. She was hunched over a scrapbook and the coffee table surface was covered with photographs she had taken and collected over the years. 

Scrapbooking had become a favourite hobby of hers. After Drake had bought her a Canon camera for her birthday, Camille had become gradually obsessed with taking pictures of her family, determined to collect memories to pass along to her two daughters. To Camille, it was family first before her role as the Duchess of Valtoria. Nothing was more important than Drake, Lily and Luna.

‘Hi mommy.’

Camille looked up to see Lily skipping into the living room. She was wearing her fluffy pink bathrobe and unicorn slippers, fresh from her bath. She barrelled into Camille’s open arms, hugging her mother tight.  She then settled down on Camille’s lap, snuggling into her soft white sweater. She breathed in Camille’s Chanel perfume, smiling as she did so.  

‘What are you doing?’ Lily asked, reaching out to stroke a picture of her father, Drake.

‘I’m making a scrapbook of photos,’ Camille told her. ‘Wanna help?’

‘Yeah!’

Camille pressed a kiss on top of Lily’s head. ‘You can be in charge of glue.’

She handed her daughter a stick of glue. Lily looked up at her with a glint in her eye. ‘Can I use glitter?’

‘Glitter’s a little messy, baby,’ Camille said gently. ‘But I would love your help with the glue. Not too much now, just enough so the photos stick to the paper.’

Lily took a photo and turned it over so she could glue the back. Her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on applying the right amount of glue; she was a perfectionist. As she worked on gluing the photo to the scrapbook paper, Camille scanned the photographs she had collected, trying to settle on the next one to put in the book. 

Drake came into the room with Luna in his arms. His eyes widened in mock surprise and he gasped, ‘Look, Luna, there they are!’

Luna nuzzled her face into Drake’s neck as he carried her across to Camille and Lily. Drake ruffled Lily’s hair and leaned down to kiss Camille on the cheek. ‘You guys scrapbooking?’ he asked, settling down on the sofa. Luna clambered over him, warbling to herself. 

‘I’m helping with the glue!’ Lily said with a burst of pride.

‘That’s great, honey. You’re so helpful,’ Drake told her, giving her a warm smile. Lily grinned and bounced up and down on her heels, pleased to receive praise from Drake. She idolised her father; everything he did was met with wonder by Lily. Their bond was a deep one and everyone knew it. 

‘You look stunning in this photo,’ Drake said to Camille, picking up a photograph of them on their wedding day. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled down on the image. ‘God, I felt so lucky. I still am.’

Camille leaned against Drake’s legs and let her head fall back so she could look up at him. Drake was still smiling at the photo, studying the details. 

‘I’ll put that in next then,’ Camille murmured. Drake grinned and handed her the photograph. Camille passed it to Lily who applied just the right amount of glue, while Camille wrote a caption in her loopy handwriting. 

‘Our wedding day. I think we are listening to Olivia’s speech?’

Olivia’s Speech

Olivia made her way up to the stage and shook her shoulders out, adopting a haughty pose. She cleared her throat down the microphone, not wanting to beg for attention. These people could just stop their laughing and merriment right now and listen to her speak. 

She looked out at Drake and Camille who were sitting together, practically glowing. It was their wedding day; the happiest day of their life together so far. Camille had taken her veil off so she could relax a little, while Drake had taken off his suit jacket. His hand was clasped around hers as they spoke to each other, smiling and laughing. 

Olivia’s heart tugged. She didn’t believe in love, not really. She viewed being in love as a negative trait, comparing it to willingly volunteering yourself to stand in front of the firing squad. Why would you want to give your heart to someone who could break it if they wished?

But Drake and Camille were slowly changing Olivia’s mind. As she had watched their relationship blossom, she could see that Drake and Camille had an epic love. A love that would echo through the ages; they only had eyes for each other. 

Olivia wondered what that felt like. 

Camille caught her eye and nodded, standing up so she could address the wedding guests. ‘Everyone, Olivia is going to make a speech!’ she called out. Everyone shut up and turned to look at Olivia, who was looking down at them all with her lip curled.

‘Jesus, you’re all so rude..’ she muttered.

They laughed.

Olivia sighed. Of course they would think she was joking. Imbeciles. 

She cleared her throat. ‘Alright, so as everyone knows, I am the maid of honour. I was asked to write a speech to commemorate today’s event so you all have the pleasure to hear my dulcet tones for the next five minutes.’

More tinkly laughter. 

Olivia opened her piece of paper that had her speech written. She exhaled. ‘So, I don’t know if any of you are aware but for a long time, Drake and I hated each other.’

More laughter.

‘No no,’ Olivia interrupted. ‘Not funny. Seriously, we genuinely hated each other.’

The room went silent. Drake was turning pale with wide eyes; clearly, he hadn’t expected Olivia to be so bold. 

‘We grew up together but the glue that kept us from really killing each other was our friend, Liam. He was a buffer. We grew up together in the palace, attending lessons; while Liam studied hard, Drake would fall asleep at his desk. I would aim spit balls at him, trying my best to annoy him. As we grew older, we became more hostile.. My fault. I’ll admit that I have said some truly terrible things to Drake in the past, things I’m not proud of..’

Olivia cast a glance at Drake. He gave her a nod, silently willing her to go on. Camille had her arm around his shoulders, her fingers stroking his neck. 

‘When Camille came to court, my attention focused on her instead. I don’t know why, I suppose it was because she was American and new blood. I didn’t understand why a waitress from New York was in the palace in the first place. So I tried my best to undermine her. And because my attention was focused on her, I started to see Camille and Drake grow closer.’

She paused and willed her hands to stop shaking; for some reason, recounting her past thoughts made her feel sick. She had changed in the past few years; she was less of a bitch now, more open to having friends. Talking about the past made her wish that she had been nicer, more kind. Especially now that Drake and Camille were her friends. She was the maid of honour at their wedding, for God’s sake.

‘I saw Drake smiling more,’ she said. ‘He would take part in court events, which was new. Often he stayed in the background, looking like a grumpy loser, but something seemed to change within him. Camille would ask him to dance and he would do it. He was terrible, mind you, but he still tried.’

Drake smiled. Encouraged, Olivia went on, her hands ceasing to shake and her voice grew steadier. 

‘Camille was inching away from the crown, unknowingly finding her way towards a future that was entirely different,’ she said. ‘I could see that she would look at Drake when she thought he wasn’t watching; she would blush when he joked with her; she would smile differently, more genuinely. I found that I stopped bullying her and I started to get to know her. I soon realised that she was in love with Drake Walker, the boy who never danced and who I would aim spit balls at.’

The room laughed again. Olivia smiled now. 

‘I don’t believe in love,’ she admitted. ‘Never have, never will. I find it weak - and I know that is an unpopular opinion. But when I look at you both.. Drake, Camille.. I find that I am starting to change my mind. If Drake Walker, the man who was actually like me; who was cynical and viewed the world through harsh eyes, could find love, and actually be happy.. Then why can’t I? I see how much they love each other, how they are always on the same team. And isn’t that what we all need? We need a team mate, someone who always has your back, who can defend you against harsh words and sharp daggers-’

‘Liv, we’re not going into battle,’ Liam called out, teasing her.  The room giggled and Olivia rolled her eyes. She looked at Camille, who gestured for her to ignore the teasing and continue with the speech. 

‘Drake and Camille are a team,’ she said. ‘A partnership. I’m so looking forward to watching your next chapter unfold, guys. It’s been an honour to be the maid of honour at your wedding and I can only hope that I’ll get the chance to adopt more roles as your life together goes on.. Ahem, like cool Aunt Olivia for your future babies.’ 

Camille blushed, looking down at her hands. Drake chuckled and squeezed her hand.

Olivia raised her champagne glass, prompting everyone else to follow. Drake and Camille held theirs up too; a camera flashed, capturing the couple. Olivia looked at them with warm eyes.

‘To Mr and Mrs Walker,’ she said softly. ‘Thanks to you both, I’m starting to see love as something that is all encompassing and good, nothing to be afraid of. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.’

‘To Mr and Mrs Walker!’ the room chorused. 

Olivia cleared her throat and fixed Drake with a steady stare, making him lean back in his chair.  ‘Drake, if you hurt her, I swear to God, I am coming after you.’

The room laughed, as did the newlyweds, and Olivia gave them both a cheeky wink. She raised her glass in the air. 

‘Cheers everyone!’ 

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 3

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, a TLWH easter egg 

WC: 7k

-----------

Shawn Mendes & Bex Spotted Canoodling in Toronto -- The Sun

Did Shawn Mendes Take Bex Home To Meet The Parents?! -- JustJared

Fallin’ All in Bex! Shawn Mendes and Bex Hit His Hometown For A Romantic Weekend -- TMZ

Penny steps back from her magnifying mirror, mashing her mauve lips together after a good blot and decides she’s ready. She smoothes her manicured fingers down the front of her ice blue Vince slip dress and reaches for the handle of her suitcase, packed with one of her favorite clients in mind, who has a fondness for vibration.

As she turns, she’s stopped in the doorway of her bathroom by an enormous German shepherd, sitting patiently, watching her like a little girl studying her mother putting on makeup. Penny scrunches her face affectionately and squats a little, cupping the dog’s big soft head in her hands.

“My baby Pammy,” she coos, leaving the dog with a kiss on the nose that makes her sniffle and sneeze, “I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. Maybe we’ll go up to Wildwood Canyon for a hike.”

At the word ‘hike,’ Pamela’s head tilts dramatically. Penny laughs and heads for her front door.

Gus is standing on her porch with his arms folded behind his back, admiring her view. When he hears her front door open, he turns with a soft smile.

“Hello there.”

Penny rises on her toes even in her strappy sandals to reach his cheek for a kiss.

“You look lovely as ever. We’re heading to the Roosevelt tonight. Can I take your case?”

Always the same routine. Gus greets her, compliments her, tells her where her date is (though she already knows) and offers to take her luggage. His professionalism is somehow comforting. Penny nods and passes over the suitcase, allowing him to open her door in the back of his Tesla (the agency used to have a small fleet of towncars but went electric last year for the environment).

The car is cool and sleek and silent. Instead of the music some of the agency women prefer to play on the way to a date, Gus and Penny talk. He catches her up on his week, tells her that his daughter Jamie is trying out for freshman soccer and they’ve been running drills in their backyard in Pasadena. His partner Ty is running another marathon, which Gus shakes his head at. Wasn’t one enough?

Penny craves the normalcy she gets a peek at in Gus’s world. Her life is beautiful -- glamorous and exciting and full of color, but Gus has a family to come home to every night that loves him and misses him when he’s away. 

She gazes out at the rippling lights of West Hollywood as they zip past. She makes a choice every day to pursue a life she’s not ready to share with someone else. The truth is, her job fulfills her so much more than dating ever has. When she started working as an escort, she still tried to date. No one was ever worth leaving her work behind for. No one was worth giving up the satisfaction of helping, of relieving, of healing. She resigned not to stop working until she met that person, if they ever came along.

Gus leaves the car in the back lot, taking her case with a wink and a smile. 

Penny waits.

+

The room is cool. The doors to the balcony are open. Penny makes a mental note to shut them for privacy later. They may be in one of the penthouse suites, but this client is extra concerned about discretion and pays a premium for Penny’s sealed lips.

The delicious thrill of an evening with a client crawls up Penny’s smooth back. She reaches out and cups a pair of full hips facing the quiet night. She uses her lips to brush away the soft red hair at the nape of a neck.

“Hello, Julia.”

The woman in her arms reacts, relaxing palpably, sighing and closing her electric green eyes.

“Where the fuck have you been in the last sixteen days?”

Her voice is teasing. Penny grins against her freckled skin, nipping to feel Julia’s perky ass grind back against her hips.

“You were the one who’s been in Moscow shaking hands and playing nice with the big boys,” Penny reminds her, stepping closer and sweeping her hands up Julia’s stomach, teasing the undersides of her breasts beneath her silk blouse.

Julia comes down another notch, her shoulders dropping as she slowly gives in to Penny’s touch. She sighs again, louder, reaching for the wall to steady herself.

“Wish I could fold you up in my pocket and take you with me.”

“Mmm, you haven’t taken me on a business trip in a while,” Penny hums, remembering Rio de Janeiro in January fondly. She slips her fingers over the generous swell of Julia’s breasts, digging her nails in slightly to get her coming all the way undone.

Julia rolls her head back against Penny’s shoulder, blinking slowly. “That’s because you fucked me so hard with the strap-on I looked like an idiot meeting the Brazilian president. I couldn’t… walk.”

Penny drops a hand back down, gliding past her Prada trousers and into what Penny is sure is La Perla lingerie to press her fingers against Julia’s wet cunt. Julia gasps and grinds down into Penny’s touch.

“Worth it, though, right, princess?”

Julia whines, loud and breathy. Penny knows the sound well. Julia Granger, Fortune 500 CEO and one of the richest, most powerful women in the world, is willing, desperate putty in Penny’s hands.

“So worth it,” Julia replies, her voice an octave higher than her soft mumbling moments ago. Penny smiles, rewarding her with a rough roll of her fingers. Julia squirms and stares at her.

“Is that what you want tonight? You wanna fuck my pussy with your pretty cock?”

Adrenaline flares hot and heavy through Penny’s entire body. She drops her head back and closes her eyes, reveling.

“Maybe if you’re the good girl I know you can be.”

Julia coos, rolling her hips between Penny and her hand. “Gonna be a good girl for you. So fucking good, Penny. The best.”

Penny’s free hand cups the back of Julia’s professionally blown out hair and drags her in. She tastes like red wine and woman. Penny groans appreciatively, loving the way Julia softens and waits to follow Penny’s lead, never taking more than she’s given, totally willing to offer her considerable power. Drunk on it already, Penny bites hard on Julia’s lower lip, swallowing the sweet, silky moan.

Penny pulls away smiling, pecking the skin she just abused, eyeing the open balcony doors.

“Let’s close these before I get you screaming for me.”

+

Penny scurries on tiptoes toward her VPI HW-40 turntable, a lavish gift from a client, to turn down the silky crooning of Patti Page. In her free hand, she hits the “Accept Call” button on her phone.

“Hello, stranger.”

“Ciao, bella. How are things?”

Penny looks over the warm, angular face of her brother Peter and pads back to her loveseat. She settles in, sweatpants and hoodie on in full post-date hibernation mood.

“Things are good. I’m recovering from last night.”

Peter smirks and leans back against the blank white wall behind his dorm bed. “Who was it?”

“Julia.”

Peter cocks his head and grins. “I loooove Julia.”

Penny barks a vibrant laugh. “She’s your style icon.”

“She is,” Peter admits freely, widening his eyes to show his sincerity, “She was photographed in this vintage Chanel suit last month in Page Six, I think it was from the 60s, and I swear to god--”

“Pete, you know I usually pay more attention to what’s under the suit,” Penny interrupts dryly, lifting a brow.

Peter pauses and rolls his eyes. “Then you found the perfect profession.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” she teases, wrinkling her nose, “So, how’s school?”

Peter grunts and slouches down into his twin XL, picking at his Target-purchased jersey sheets. “‘S fine. I’m taking on an extra project in my Mathematical Economic Modeling class. Gets me more face time with that professor with the Apple connections, Dietrich. And the TA is gorgeous.”

Penny’s smirk is alarmingly similar to Peter’s. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She gestures to herself.

Peter snorts. “You’re not my tree.”

“I’m as good as. How is that tree of ours, anyway? Have you talked to them?”

“They’re fine. I talked to dad and Kris on Thursday. They’re going to Miami for fall break so they asked if I could stay with mom and Frank. I told them I was flying out to visit you instead.”

Penny pauses her fiddling with the cushions on her sofa and looks at him through the phone. “Are you?”

“Ugh, don’t look so horrified. I’m going to Sasha’s. Her family lives in Delaware and they have a boat.”

“First of all, I’m not horrified, I would just need to move some shit around in my calendar. Second, why don’t you just tell them that?”

“Oh my god, I’m not gonna, like, cramp your hooker style. Just leave me on a beach I’d be fiiiiiine,” Peter whines. Penny narrows her eyes.

“I don’t live anywhere near the beach and your ass still can’t drive. Why do you care if they know you’re at Sasha’s?”

“Oh my god, I know, my useless gay ass really needs a license, what the fuck,” Peter laments.

“HEY!” Penny yelps for his attention, “Why does it matter if you’re in Delaware?”

Peter grunts and rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t. I just don’t need them knowing shit about me, you know?”

Penny’s lips fasten. She nods. She can’t argue with that, it’s the same approach she took with their parents while she was growing up with them in the suburbs of northern Jersey. She didn’t have a shitty childhood or anything. In fact once her parents got divorced and quickly remarried wildly different people, things ran much smoother. But the family isn’t close. Her parents were very preoccupied with their own lives and never paid much attention to Penny or Peter. So they made their own family. And in that family, the less others outside it know about them, the better.

Penny feels an overwhelming urge to hug her little brother, the super genius, the boy who got into MIT at 16 to study Computer Science, Economics and Data Science. Their parents barely noticed, but Penny did. She pays his tuition bills and housing to remind him financially of how much she cares. She tries to remind him in other ways, too, like this, their (usually) weekly FaceTime date. 

“Well, you’ll be out here for Thanksgiving, right? We’re gonna order Chinese and get high in Big Bear?”

Penny sounds laughably eager. She doesn’t mind. Peter deserves her eagerness and her care-giving instincts. He always has.

Peter smiles, hugging a stuffed hippogryff pillow into his narrow chest. “Course. Better you than the stepmonsters.”

Penny rolls her tired eyes. “I’m flattered. Email me your holiday schedule this week so I can buy your flight, ok?”

Peter nods and watches his sister yawn and collapse back into her pillows.

“Julia wore you the fuck out,” he laughs.

“She did. I’ve had a few very long nights over the last couple weeks, actually. And doing all the end of month stuff for Silver.”

“Silver, OMG, my mom.”

Penny continues, ignoring Peter’s extremely gen Z interruption, “And before that I was with Victor in the Caribbean.”

“Has Julia been hogging you since then?”

Penny glances at the record player, shrugging. “New client, actually.”

“Ooh, we love. Anyone I know?”

Penny doesn’t have to tell Peter to keep a secret. She also knows better than to play coy for too long. She tells him everything.

“Shawn Mendes.”

Peter’s eyes go wide. His jaw drops. He makes a squeaking noise and falls dramatically into his pillows. “Dead. Bitch, I’m dead. What the fuck?!? Are you… oh my GOD!”

Penny’s familiar with the reaction. She got almost the same one when she had a few dates with Timothee Chalamet last spring. This one is even more… Peter.

“Truly, this is the highlight of my life and it’s not even mine. What a moment. Can we just pause and take this in? Oh my god. You’re… oh my god. How many times have you seen him?”

“Twice.”

“Oh sweet god. Tell me everything, holy fuck.”

“I’m not going to tell you everything. I never tell you everything,” Penny reminds him. 

She’s been open about her profession with her brother since he was 14 (with the maturity of an 18-year-old) but long ago decided he didn’t need to know all the details of her escapades. Some things have to remain just hers.

Peter whines loudly. “But this is different! He’s… god, an Adonis. The best looking man on the planet. Seriously, he has no business looking like that.”

Penny nods solemnly. She doesn’t disagree.

Peter’s lips purse. His eyes narrow. “But you like him, right?”

“I do. He’s very nice. And… he’s a very good boy.”

Peter lifts a cushion to his face and screams while Penny laughs, curling into a comfy ball on her couch.

+

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mendes?”

Shawn blinks. His stomach drops into his shoes and his fingers tighten around his phone. “Uh… yeah? Hi.”

“Hello, this is Colette. May I have your verbal password for security purposes?”

Shawn presses a hand into the hair he forgot he was doing up and frowns. La Splendeur has never called him before. He has to give his verbal password when he calls the service, but he’s a little thrown off at being the one getting a call. He clears his throat.

“Um, it’s “Ireland.””

Shawn wasn’t prepared to have to create a password when they first asked him for one so he spit out the first word he thought of, and Niall was the one who gave him their number, so…

“Yes, thank you. Mr. Mendes, I’m calling regarding your appointment tonight with Penny.”

He has the sudden urge to throw his phone on the bed and punch a pillow, throw a little temper tantrum. She’s cancelling. He can feel it. He’s been in Toronto sexless and desperate for 10 days thinking about seeing her again, feeling her again, making her come again. And now she’s ditching him.

“Yes?” he croaks miserably.

“There’s been a change of venue. Penny and her driver will meet you at the Bel Air Bay Club in the Pacific Palisades. We have texted you the address. Penny apologizes for the last minute change in plan and hopes you’re still able to join her.”

The roller coaster he seems to be on brings him back up to a peak. He grins and nods until he remembers Colette can’t see him through the phone.

“Yes! Yeah, no problem. 8:00 still?”

“Yes, 8:00. Thank you, Mr. Mendes. Enjoy your evening.”

+

Shawn is about five minutes from the turn off to the Bel Air Bay Club when the radio station he has on to block out the static in his head starts playing the Lost in Japan remix. He flinches and hits the off button on the stereo, looking around at the red light like he’s worried people stopped around him might think he’s listening to his own music. Truthfully, he doesn’t want anyone around him to notice him for any reason tonight. He feels safe enough for now.

He was immediately relieved when he realized Penny was not cancelling their date, but became slowly unnerved trying to riddle out why she didn’t have the service book a hotel room like their first dalliances. She’s changing the game. Why is she changing the game?

He knows he’s not in charge. That’s literally the point. Seeing her means seeing her on her terms and bending to her will and whims. So if driving out almost to Malibu is what she wants him to do, he’ll do it. But just when he was getting comfortable with this, or as comfortable as he can be when he’s regularly utilizing the services of a high priced call girl, she’s got him on edge again. Maybe she’s doing it on purpose. Maybe it’s a whole “domme” thing -- luring him like prey into a sense of security and then teasing him, faking him out to keep him on his toes.

He might be thinking too hard about this. Penny’s always trying to get his mind clear, not confuse or upset him. She wants to take care of him.

He swallows as the light turns green and he eyes his turn off a few hundred yards away. He hopes he’s dressed ok. He googled the Bay Club and it seems to just be an event space, not a restaurant or a hotel, which threw Shawn even further down the loop. He’s in black jeans, the good ones, the ones he wore before the Calvin Klein partnership that don’t have the big obnoxious CALVIN KLEIN JEANS patch on the back waistband, and an off white oxford with some embroidered detailing on the inside of the collar and the shirt pocket.

Are they staying here? He wonders as his Tesla hugs the curves of the road heading up the bluff to the Spanish style country club. Is she taking him to some kind of event? That would be weird. People know him. She can’t take him to stuff and expect him to be incognito. She wouldn’t do that, right? She’s been doing this a long time, she probably has had lots of famous clients that insist on staying under the radar.

He begins to spiral as the road does, dropping him right into the valet lane in front of the grand main building complete with cascading bougainvillea and an ornately sculpted fountain. He spots Gus standing under an overhang with his arms folded professionally looking like expensive private security. Shawn supposes that’s exactly what he is, actually.

The car rolls to a stop. He chokes down an inhale and rolls his window down when Gus gestures to him.

“Good evening, Mr. Mendes. Miss Penny is in the parking lot just around the corner there. May I see your--”

Shawn holds up the screenshot of his bank’s transfer confirmation on his phone with what he hopes is a smile and not a grimace but his whole stupid body is churning. Gus looks it over and nods, waving him toward the lot.

It’s nearly empty. There’s no event here tonight. It’s near sunset on a Tuesday in early June, but the dreaded LA June gloom is nowhere to be seen. Maybe Penny did away with that for them, Shawn muses absurdly as he steers the car toward the lot. She has power he doesn’t understand.

He stops the car in the middle of the lot, hitting the brakes a little too hard. He can’t even be bothered to park.

Propped up against a sleek black Aston Martin Vanquish S in a little white dress and beige leather driving gloves is Penny, looking somehow more like James Bond than one of his Bond girls. His brain pops and fizzles, giving out entirely. He swears he’s already hard in his jeans just from seeing the car. He releases a whimpered breath and gets his shit together enough to park beside her, not directly next to her for fear of bumping her car with his door.

He steps out on jello knees and stares at her, a burst of shocked laughter rumbling from his chest.

Penny grins and pats the hood affectionately.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

Does he ever.

+

The car growls as she shifts gears once they’re back on the PCH, cruising past ridiculous beach homes on their right and the Pacific on their left. He keeps looking down at her lap and the way her leg muscles flex and release as she works the pedals easily, like she’s been driving hundred thousand dollar sports cars since she got her license.

“How long have you had this?” he murmurs, gazing around at the blonde leather interior appreciatively.

“Two years. It’s my dream car.”

She strategically leaves out the part explaining that it was a gift from the North American president of Aston Martin for her birthday while he was her client. That’s need to know information.

“I think this is everyone’s dream car,” he snorts.

“I like your Tesla though,” she comments, shifting again, swerving around a couple hippies in a Jeep Wrangler without doors as easily as if she were brushing an ant off a windshield. Shawn’s stomach lurches in response and his skin tingles. There’s something incredibly sexy about a practiced, fearless driver.

“Yeah, it’s a good car,” he chirps, feeling silly about the boyish pride he felt when he bought it, like he was hot shit. Teslas are everywhere now, especially in LA. Aston Martins remain eternally cool. He finds himself oddly jealous.

“I don’t let just anyone in this car, you know,” she says, easing into a stop at a red light as they head north to Malibu. He looks over at her.

Her berry pink lips spread. He flushes.

“Oh no?”

He picks up on the implication that she means she doesn’t often take dates in this car. Where there was a hint of childish jealousy there’s now a swell of pleasure and pride.

“No, definitely not. There are many powerful men that are comfortable enough submitting themselves to me for sex but still can’t stomach being driven around by a young woman who’s a better driver than they are in a car that’s nicer than theirs.”

She lifts her leather gloved hand gracefully from the gearshift and drops it against his mid thigh, mashing her lips together as they enjoy the breeze coming in from the window. 

“You’re saying you think I’m secure enough in my masculinity?” he jokes, but he feels himself flush a little.

Penny squeezes her fingers enough to make his whole body stiffen. She lifts the corner of her mouth in a smirk at his reaction.

“Exactly.”

Her voice is smooth and controlled, just like her driving as she springs forward on the green light. Shawn’s head tips back against the seat from the acceleration. He misses her hand as soon as she takes it away to attend to the gearshift. 

He turns his head to watch her shamelessly, pressing his cheek into the warm leather headrest, admiring the way her dark hair flutters in the breeze.

“So where are we going?”

She smirks again in that way that always makes him ready to drop to his knees in surrender to her. That smile means she knows everything and controls it, too. He loves that smile. That smile is his freedom.

“Oh, you noticed this isn’t a hotel room?” she teases.

Shawn rolls his eyes and looks forward, watching the colors spread like spilled paint on a canvas as the sun begins to dip below the watery horizon. “Don’t need a hotel room to make you feel good, Penny.”

He feels her eyes and looks over to see her watching him, swiping her soft wet tongue against her lower lip. “Good to know.”

She dips around a curve and slows at another light, drumming her long slender fingers against the wheel. He watches them and can’t help but think about the last time they were together when she so generously let him watch her fuck herself and suck on her fingers after.

She seems to sense his antsiness and clears her throat. “Well, we are headed for a hotel room. I just wanted to take you on a little drive first. It’s not often I show off this car, like I said. And I like this part of the PCH.”

He settles, knowing there’s a bed for them at the end of this little journey. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love the beach,” she answers, nodding, “My favorite beach in the world is on Laucala Island in Fiji. It’s dead quiet and the snorkeling is the best I’ve ever seen.”

Shawn smiles. “So have you been, like, everywhere?”

“Well, I’ve been most everywhere on the Conde Nast Traveler’s Best Of list. There are still a lot of other places I’d like to visit.”

“Like where?”

“Like… Chicago. I’ve never been to Chicago,” she chuckles.

His eyebrows lift. “You’ve been to Fiji but not Chicago?”

She shrugs. “I know. Imagine missing out on all that deep dish pizza.”

Shawn laughs. “It makes sense though. Clients would rather fly you somewhere sexier than Chicago.”

There he goes, acknowledging the elephant in the back seat of the sportscar again. Penny nods appreciatively, but stays quiet. She still isn’t quite sure what to do about his insistence on reminding them both that she’s here with him in a professional capacity. He doesn’t even sound bitter or awkward about it, that’s the weirdest part. He just treats it like it’s a part of her life, and maybe he’s interested in her life and not just the insane orgasms she can dish out.

“What’s the craziest trip a client has taken you on?”

Penny chews on her lip. Shawn expects her to come away with lipstick on her teeth, but nothing. Figures. She’s perfect.

“I think… well, I can’t tell you who, obviously, but someone flew me to Mustique once on about four hours notice. I had to pack and get myself to LAX to catch the flight. And then we couldn’t get back for almost a week because of a hurricane on the east coast. But honestly, if I had to be stranded on any private island, I’d pick that one.”

Shawn grins and launches into a story about getting hounded by paps in Mexico with his family once. While Penny listens, she quietly marvels at how easily he handles her honesty about her job. She understands she’s not getting into the nitty gritty, not describing how many influential businessmen, politicians, musicians and actors she’s had on their knees for her, but still. Given the way he reacted the first time she flubbed and made mention of their professional arrangement, he seems oddly relaxed about it now.

She likes hearing him talk. She can see the way he settles down when he’s rattling away about something. He talks about his family and his crew and bandmates, weaving in and out of tangents with each breath. He doesn’t question it when she flips on her turn signal and edges them up a canyon path that leads up into the craggy hills, climbing away from the sunset.

He’s even still chattering when she shifts the car into park at the top of a bluff with a deserted lookout point that she knows and loves.

“... and anyway, I think the festival thing will be good, ya know? It’ll take my mind off all the shit leading into releasing the next album. Or, hopefully it will.”

He looks around and registers that they’ve stopped. He clears his throat and smiles sheepishly, tilting his head back against the headrest. His curls flop boyishly over his forehead, bathed in violet light from the sunset.

“I haven’t shut up for fifteen minutes at least, eh?”

Penny shakes her head, amused. “You haven’t, but that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Shawn understands that. It’s better if he talks than if she does. Her job is probably one that she tries not to put too much of her real self into. He imagines he wouldn’t, if he were in her position. Too messy.

He tries not to feel the pang of… something that flares in his chest when he looks at her and wonders how much of the little she shares of herself is real.

“I wanted you to see this view while the sun was still setting.”

He nods and settles in. They unbuckle their seatbelts. She reaches for her phone that’s plugged into the stereo and selects a playlist. Shawn closes his eyes, stretches out his legs as much as is possible in the sleek sports car and sighs.

“This is nice. I feel, like… really good around you.”

He doesn’t even flinch when he feels her fingers on his neck, the soft buttery leather tracing up his jugular vein to run along his jaw and tangle in the hair at his nape.

“That’s good.”

He keeps his eyes shut and breathes into her touch, letting Frank Sinatra’s voice flood out anything that isn’t Penny related. His aching brain welcomes the cleanse.

“Do you feel good around me?” he hums.

“I do,” she responds, pulling her hand back from him. He opens his eyes to see her carefully slipping out of her driving gloves. The action is erotic in a Victorian sort of way, despite the fact that if he glanced down he’d see a lot more leg than was ever shown in that era. He loves her hands, though. They’re fucking gorgeous hands. He thinks about them on a piano or a guitar and it makes him breathe a little harder.

She tucks the gloves away in the center console. Shawn swallows and blinks at her, hoping his big brown eyes can entice her into touching him with her bare fingers. He doesn’t even care where, not yet.

“So you like Sinatra?” he rasps.

He gets a nice little smile out of her. “I love Sinatra. I listen to a lot of that kind of music. The Rat Pack, anything from the 40s and 50s. My best friend Silver tells me I have an old soul.”

“Silver. That’s a cool name.”

Penny wets her lips and pushes a hand through her floaty blow out. “I’m not sure it’s real, but I don’t mind. She runs La Splendeur. We’ve known each other a long time.”

Shawn squirrels away this piece of information, knowing somehow in his gut that it’s the truth. He doesn’t think Penny lies to him much, if ever -- she just doesn’t offer a lot of specifics. When she does, he hoards them like a starving man.

“I thought about you so much in the last week,” he sighs, sounding resigned. As he keeps his eyes down at his lap, he sees her hand appear again, resting on his thigh. It’s warmer without her little glove. He takes a chance and places his on top of hers, massaging her wrist gently with his rough fingers.

“What did you think about?” she asks.

He looks up at her and sees all the little details his brain failed him on when he was away from her. She has little freckles on her shoulders, bared by the thin straps of her dress. She has a little scar on the cut of her jaw. Her lips are full and round but slightly uneven so when she purses them a certain way it looks like a sexy little scowl.

“Thought about touching you,” he muses, letting his greedy eyes rake over the rest of her, “Tasting you. I really… I love the way you taste, Penny.”

She slides down in her seat, sighing heavily, letting her legs fall open as much as the footwell will allow. Shawn’s mouth goes instantly dry.

“I wonder what you’ll do for me if I let you have another taste.”

She looks over to see Shawn’s eyes looking wild and needy. She has to tamp down a satisfied grin to keep her facade.

“Anything you want, Pen. I’ll make you come so good. As many times as you want. It can be like the other night, you know? Or… or whatever you want.”

Penny reaches out and cups his chin in her hand. He leans into it like an attention-starved house cat, practically nuzzling into her palm as his eyes flutter.

“Anything I want?” she purrs, pressing her fingertips into his jaw teasingly. He swallows a moan and nods as much as he can in her tight grip.

“Anything. Wanna be so good for you, Pen.”

She licks her pillowy lips and releases him. He inhales sharply, watching as she pushes her door open and steps out. Before he can react, ask what she’s doing or even open his door to try to follow her lead, she steps out of her vibrant pink Manolos and easily unzips her dress all the way to the hem, pushing it off her shoulders until it lands in the dust at her feet. Shawn groans at all her sweet soft skin, still evenly bronzed, her tight brown nipples puckering in the cool evening breeze. Her nude satin thong joins the rest of her expensive clothes. Shawn’s eyes focus on her, on the soft little patch of dark hair that crowns her pussy, on the memory of how wet he got her the last time they were together. He struggles to keep himself together.

She leans into the driver’s side, her breasts swinging as she lowers her head to kiss him. He sucks at her lower lip and hums into her mouth, the first taste of release as sweet as he remembers.

“Come here, Shawn,” she says firmly, jerking her head as she drops herself back into the driver’s seat, this time with her back to him, seated sideways facing her open door.

Shawn leaps out of the car, slams his door and hustles around the hood, barely slowing as he drops to his knees in front of her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chastises, plucking his hungry hands off her thighs as he braces himself to bury his face in her.

He looks up, bewildered but willing. She presses a finger to his lips, watches him kiss her skin while he stares up at her like it’s second nature to him.

“Stand up and turn around.”

His jaw snaps shut, the muscle twitching in protest like it does when he doesn’t get what he wants right away. Ever obedient, though, he stands and turns away.

Penny reaches into the glove compartment and comes out with a white silk tie from her favorite fetish set. She drops it in her lap and reaches for his hands, clasping them together behind his back. She binds him wrist over wrist like an expert.

His exhale whistles through his nose as his chest deflates. “Jesus, Penny.”

“I know,” she whispers soothingly. She’s been watching him all night. She knows how badly he wants to touch her. Taking that away is almost cruel, but it’s for a good cause.

With a gentle push from her, he turns and kneels again, watching as she props herself up, spreading her legs for him, arm up on the center console.

Shawn keeps his eyes on her despite how badly he wants to stare at her body. Her nose twitches against a powerful smirk. She rolls her hips forward slightly and watches him suck in a desperate breath.

“Want my pussy, Shawn?”

He nods almost frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” he croaks, his eyes flashing at hers, “Please. I need your pussy.”

She casually shrugs a hand into her hair and sighs. “Good. Because I want your mouth.”

Shawn lurches toward her, his shoulders pulling together as he buries his face in her warm wet folds. She mewls, smiling at his eagerness, rolling her hips slowly as he whimpers into her, trying to get his bearings before he can get totally lost in her perfect cunt.

He eases back slightly to focus on sucking on her outer lips, lifting his eyes to look at her as he tastes what he missed so much in the last week.

“That better, Shawn? You feel better now that you’re tasting me?”

He nods without lifting his head, swiping his tongue out to take long, broad licks of her, sweeping up all he can. When he can look up at her, her abdominal muscles quake, reacting to the heady desire in his eyes. She grunts, lifting her chin to urge him on.

“Yeah, feels so fucking good,” she mutters, letting her head fall back as she basks in it. 

He knows what she likes now. After spending hours worshipping her pussy before he left for Toronto, he’s learned all the tricks, experimented carefully with pressure and position and speed and anything else he could think of to watch her perfect fucking thighs tremble next to his head and hear her make her pretty noises. Once she got comfortable with him between her knees, she started to talk dirty, praising him, swearing, generally moaning filth. He thinks he likes that maybe even more than her little whimpers.

But nothing’s better than when she screams.

Shawn starts slow, warming her up until she’s absolutely dripping on his tongue. He courses slow, deliberate circles around her entrance, just dipping inside and watching her chest rise with her inhale before he swipes at her lips some more, humming to drive her a little crazy. She likes the teasing, though. She likes the slow burn. He gives her what she wants.

“Like watching you suck on my clit with your pretty pink lips,” she half-whines, her foot slipping a little as she starts to fade closer to orgasm. He takes the hint and flicks at her swollen bud once, twice with his stiff tongue and then sucks it into his mouth with a satisfied groan.

“Yes,” she hisses, gripping his hair in one hand and the edge of her leather seat with the other, “Fuck, that’s so good. You’re so good for me.”

Shawn preens, sucking harder, then letting up on pressure, then going hard again. He can feel her orgasm coiled in her abdomen. She just has to let him release it. He alternates sucking and brushing his tongue against her entrance until she’s yanking at his hair, sitting up straighter.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come on your tongue,” she chants, nodding, eyes squeezed shut.

She opens them, looks down to see his hands straining behind his back, still bound for her as he sucks at her pussy like it’s the fucking fountain of youth.

She explodes. She holds his face down against her, rides it out against his mouth. Her legs spasm, feet slipping from where they’re propped beside him. Her cheeks are flooded red, her eyes glassy and dark as she swears his name. He doesn’t let up until she’s pulling his head away with a fist in his hair. He licks his lips and smiles -- it’s not a smirk or a simper. He smiles at her like he’s never been happier to see her. She grins back, giggling effusively.

“How was that?” he grunts, even though he knows. He wants to hear it. He deserves it.

“Perfect, Shawn. So… fuck, so good. Your mouth is amazing. You make me feel…” she sighs again through a drowsy grin, “You get me so high, baby.”

Baby.

His ears go as red as his cheeks. He ducks his head shyly, feeling his chest burn as his heart rattles like an angry kettle in his chest. One word, a word he’s been called a hundred times, a pet name he sings in songs he writes for women that don’t exist, and it has him reeling. He manages to raise his eyes again. She’s watching him fondly.

“You like that?” she whispers, cradling the back of his head as she reaches down behind him to free his hands. They go limp at his sides. He makes no move to touch her. 

What a good boy.

He nods, uncertain. “I like that.”

“We all want to feel wanted, Shawn,” she coos, nudging him back up on his feet. She grins at the patches of dirt on the knees of his dark jeans. She offers him her hand and he helps her stand now in the crisp blue light of new dusk.

“Kiss me, baby,” she breathes, reaching for his waist. A weak noise of eagerness slips from his throat as he pulls her in, tucks her warm, orgasm-flushed body against his and lets her taste herself on his tired tongue. Just as he’s settling in, just as he gets comfortable and starts toying with tangling his fingers in the ends of her hair and massaging her cheek with his thumb, she pulls away, poker face firmly in place.

“Can you get my coat from the trunk?” She seals her request with a perfunctory peck against his lips.

He nods, letting himself look her over, naked and proud on this bluff above the ocean like there’s no one around for a thousand miles. He pops the trunk and opens her suitcase. A Burberry trench coat sits on top. He blinks and lifts it out. He’s about to ask if this is all she plans on wearing tonight when he catches sight of what else is in the suitcase.

He peeks his head around the trunk to look at her.

“Is… that for me?”

She places a hand on her hip and shrugs. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Shawn’s heart bounces into his throat. His fingers tighten around the jacket.

“Jesus… Christ.”

Penny smiles and looks down at her feet as she takes slow steps toward the back of the car. She pries the jacket from his clawed hands and slips it on over her bare body, tying it at the waist.

She looks up at him under soft, hooded lids. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and cocks her head. “Ever tried one?”

He swallows like a fucking cartoon character and shakes his head.

“I think you’ll like it,” she purrs, flipping her hair out from under her collar and turning on her heel. She crouches, gathers up her dusty clothes and tosses them into the backseat. She slips back into her heels and lowers into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition.

The car growls. Shawn shivers. She pops her head out the driver’s side door and raises her eyebrows.

“Coming?”

Definitely.

----------

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