#Chanelle Sofa Suite

[leathergallery]

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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.”

[sebstan2020]

The Sharpest Lies

Chapter 12

Pairings: Max Burnett x Original Female Character

Summary: Violet was an expert. She could pick em, play em and win em. She was taught by the best. Conning was an art to her and she had a taste for it. But when she comes to visit her father and his new partner, she aims for the biggest mark she's ever seen.

Warnings: Underage in the past, Controlling, Dom/Sub, Light BDSM, Daddy Issues, Mentions of medical conditions, Con Artists, Daddy Kink

Violet shuffled inside the tall building, her shoes scuffing on the polished white floor. You could tell the building was made of money, with stone-marbled countertops and black leather sofas dotted around. It was certainly an office made for Manhattan. She was dressed in a pair of mom jeans, a white top and a hoodie, resorting back to her skint girl act, with messy hair and a natural face. As much as she didn’t want to see Madeline again, she was so close, they were so close. After this, she’d be swimming in the cash they earned from this mark. Besides, she was doing it all for Max. She couldn’t help the smirk that appear on her face as she reminisced about this morning.

She reached the front desk, notifying the rather snobby receptionist that she was there. Her meeting with Madeline was hopefully going to be a short one. She couldn’t bare to sit there and have girly chit-chat. Waiting in the elevator, leaning against the wall with her hands shoved in her pockets, she waited until the doors pinged open, revealing the top floor of the office. It was quiet and clean, the fresh scent of linen and vanilla flooding the halls. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor as she purposely dragged them, hoping to leave a mark or some sort and took a seat in one of the leather chairs.

A girl was sitting at a desk, her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as she spotted Violet and she stood, calling out over the desk.

“Can I help you?” She asked, strutting around the desk with her heels and tight dress and hair done in a tight bun.

“Oh, I’m here to see Madeline,” Violet said and the girl glared.

“Do you have an appointment” she sassed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I already told the desk” Violet snapped back.

“And your name?”

“Violet, she’s expecting me” Violet glared and the girl stormed to the large wooden doors, knocking loudly before entering in and slamming the door. Violet scoffed, rolling her eyes. Privileged asshole. Perhaps she could be a victim. Violet thought about sneaking over to the desk and taking what money she had in her bag but she was supposed to be apologetic and give off a changed good girl vibe, not causing more trouble for herself. Besides, Max would be furious if she blew this whole thing.

The girl walked back out, leaving the door open and didn’t say a word, just walked past with a sway of her hips and a glare from her eyes. Seconds later Madeline came out, smiling softly. She was dressed in a black suit with a white blouse underneath, her hair straight and light makeup. Gold jewellery adorned her wrists and fingers and the rich smell of Chanel could be smelt from the whole waiting area.

“Hi Violet, come on in” She nodded to her office, not before glancing at the receptionist and Violet stood, smirking and almost wanting to flip off the snobby girl. The door shut and it was just the two of them.

“Thanks for coming” she smiled.

“She’s cheerful” Violet nodded outside the office and Madeline chuckled.

“Oh Cindy, you’ll get used to her, she’s a fiery girl” more like a snob. Violet padded over softly, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the desk, her shoulders hunching and knees pressing together.

“I wanted to apologise about Saturday night, I shouldn’t have behaved like that and I had no right to use your penthouse like that,” she said with a small voice, her submissive nature coming into full play. Madeline wasn’t expecting it but it was a relief to hear.

“Thank you, I appreciate that” An awkward silence took over and Madeline stood from the desk, coming over to sit in one of the seats beside her. She didn’t want this to be like a formal meeting she’d have with clients and other business partners. This was her boyfriend's daughter she was speaking to and if she wanted her to like her anymore, acting like she was one of her employees wasn’t going to achieve that.

“Look, I think we hit it off on the wrong foot. I know I’ve said this before but I’m not trying to be your stepmother or anything. You’re Max’s daughter and I want to have a good relationship with you. I know you’ve been struggling with jobs and finding the right career and I was thinking about it ever since we went shopping. You’re amazing at fashion and style and figures and you would be great in that industry”.

Violet smiled, glancing down to the floor, acting all shy.

“And I was talking to your father about this and I want to help you, to give you a great opportunity to find a job that suits you so I was thinking you could start your own business. A fashion one” Violet’s head perked up, looking with furrowed brows at Madeline.

“My own business?”.

“Yeah, you’re great with fashion and you said you did it at school, why not use that to your advantage? You can start your own business making dresses, skirts, t-shirts, jumpsuits, anything and sell them, and then in the future open your store, maybe even become a designer brand” Madeline beamed, a smile dotted on her face.

“But I don’t have the money for that-“.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll give you the money to start up, and use that to get all the products, website, and shipping”.

Violet stared at Madeline for a moment, eyes wide with surprise and shock.

“Are you sure, it seems like a lot and after the way I’ve been towards you, are you sure you want to help me?” She said and Madeline nodded.

“Yes, at the end of the day you are family and I know it will make your father happy as well… and of course you can stay with us until you find somewhere, as long as you like” She smiled and Violet hummed, offering a small smile back.

“Thank you, Madeline”.

Madeline grinned, standing up with excitement and rolled around to her desk.

“So, I’ll give you 1 million dollars to start up, whatever you need to buy, just get it. I know a few places you can use for a warehouse as well and I know some great suppliers for equipment and fabrics” Madeline pulled out a chequebook, ready to write it off when Violet stood abruptly.

“Actually, can I have it in cash,” she asked and Madeline looked up stunned.

“It’s just I have a few different accounts and I want to divide it into those, I have some savings so I’ll add that in” The awkward silence came back and Violet’s stomach began to tighten nervously. She hadn’t felt this nervous since the day she’d been caught by the police after she stole Max’s wallet. But when Madeline’s face relaxed, so did Violet and she tore up the check.

“Sure, it’s your business, plus it's easier to make bank transfers, come on, we’ll go to the bank together” Madeline grabbed her coat from the hook and yanked the office door open, calling over to Cindy.

“We’re just going to the bank, be back in ten” Violet smirked as she followed behind like a puppy, looking over to Cindy with a deadly grin who looked at her uneasily.

Violet grinned to herself as she walked down the sidewalk of New York. A large duffel bag in her hand, hips swaying and hair bouncing. She didn’t give a care to anyone else walking by, she was in her own little world. Anyone walking by would think there were clothes in the duffle or a gym kit. No one would suspect there was a million dollars, in cash, right in her hand.

Smiling as she pushed the button for her floor, she hummed to herself, filled with giddiness and the urge to jump for joy. She done it, she fucking done. She thought at the risk of asking for cash it would be all over but it went just as she hoped. Swaggering out into the hallway, she reached her apartment, rushing inside, slamming the door and throwing the duffle on the coffee table. Throwing the old hoodie across the room, she licked her lips as she opened the duffle, the beautiful sight of all that green cash staring back at her, sending erotic tingles through her body, the smell of freshly cut bills filling her senses. Violet grinned, screaming in excitement, jumping up and down for joy. Oh, how she wanted to throw all that money in the air, roll around in it, feel it on her skin like some toxic drug.

But the sound of the door opening caught her attention and she turned abruptly, her face softening a bit but immediately turning back to the stupid grin she had on seconds before. Max sauntered in, throwing his long coat on the kitchen counter, dressed in his suit still from earlier, the rich scent of his cologne adding to her high.

Violet bit her bottom lip in a sexy fashion, slowly padding over to him, hips swaying as he did the same. When they were just inches apart, she squealed in delight, throwing her arms around him as he caught her, pressing their foreheads together and kissing hard and passionately. When they pulled back, she stared into his bright ocean-blue eyes, grinning like a schoolgirl.

“We did it” she whispered and Max took her chin in his thumb, smirking.

“You did it” he whispered back and she blushed. His praise sent more tingles down her body, to her aching pussy that she silently begged to be touched despite him pleasuring her this morning, feeling every inch of her body. The marks were still there and her pussy pulsed just thinking about them. Max caught her lips again, kissing deeply, moaning softly and when he pulled away, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before zooming over to the duffle bag of money. His grin grew deeper as he looked in the bag, pulling out a few wads and glanced at Violet who was in awe of it all.

“Look at that, 1 million fucking dollars, and it’s all ours” he posted, flapping the wads and Violet grinned.

“I told you I’d get what you want” she squeaked like a little schoolgirl, holding her hands behind her back as if she had been naughty.

“I know because you’re my good girl,” he said with a husky voice. He slapped the bills on the coffee table before padding back over to her and reaching into his pocket.

“And I got you something” he murmured, pulling out a sleek black box. Violet got even more giddy, trying to contain herself as he handed the leather box to her. She glanced up with wide eyes, completely not expecting this and snapped it open, her body freezing and mouth dropping open.

It was stunning. A beautiful silver chain with a small diamond hanging in the shape of a teardrop. She hadn’t expected this at all.

“Max” she whispered and looked up at him as he smirked.

“Do you like it” She nodded as quickly as she could, holding out her wrist as he took the box and gently took the bracelet out, wrapping it around her wrist. It fitted perfectly and had some weight to it. The diamond was beautiful and shined under the lights.

“I love it… thank you Daddy” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. Max chuckled, cupping her face and biting her lip, dragging it out just to hear her moan.

“Anything for my girl” he whispered back, eyes bright and bold. In a heated moment of kisses and moans, clothes flying across the room, he pushed Violet against the couch, letting her fall and climbed on top of her, hands creeping over her body, touching every sensitive inch of her begging to be touched.

“Oh please” she begged, hands running through his soft locks as he places kisses down her stomach, lips dragging to her bikini line and gently over her pussy, latching on like a baby at its mother's teet. Violet moaned at the top of her lungs, not caring if anyone heard, not that they could but at the volume of her moans she wouldn’t be surprised. Max flicked his tongue on her pussy, kissing and sucking at her wet clit, folding his tongue in her hole. She was warm and sweet and salty and Violet was shaking with pleasure. Her freshly waxed pussy was smooth to the touch and the tingles intensified as her orgasm wasn’t far off. Max gripped her hands in his, holding them back as he tortured her with his tongue, looking up possessively now and then. His teeth grazed her skin, earning flinches from the intense pleasure.

“Oh please Sir” she groaned, the pleasure taking over like a drug and clouding her mind.

“What do you want?” He teased and she groaned, her legs shaking, toes curling and head rolling into the couch.

“Please I want to cum” she begged. She wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. But she knew she couldn’t come without his permission. Max continued to tease and torture her, smirking against her pussy and dragging his teeth along the sensitive clit. Violet groaned harder, sweat dripping down her forehead and hands crushing his fingers.

“Oh please” she pleaded once more.

“You can cum” he ordered against her pussy, never letting his tongue stop and she released, her juices spilling it and being licked up immediately, the pleasurable tingles taking over and her body feeling like it was falling into the couch. She moaned at the top of her lungs, sweet thank you’s pouring out and deep breaths. What a way to celebrate a million-dollar mark.

Chapter 13

Hey so I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments

@pattiemac1​​​​

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@charmed-asylum​​​

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[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.  

[lovediverp]

hello lovelies! (that's our name, btw, for our love dive members and prospective members) 🗽 thank you so much to all those who have popped an intro in, joined our discord, and popped asks into our inbox! and if you haven't already - what are you waiting for?!

for today's sneak peek, we have our member groups! we have two forms of member groups here on love dive - regular and premium. regular member groups are free to all members, whilst premium member groups costs points in our points store!

regular groups --

balmain - bruised knuckles and knees, guyliner and too much eye shadow, leather and studs, the smell of exhaust fumes, tire tracks on pavement, the sound of boots crunching on dirt, tongue out in selfies, making deals with crossroads demons, the click of a lighter, flowers growing back as thorns, granddaughters of the witches you couldn't burn.

moschino - quirky, eccentric, playful, laughs easily, laughs instead of crying at pain, unflappable, 'i smell purple', would wrestle a bear, kept a diary at some point, spends too much time on pinterest, drinks energy drinks and eats takeout, wears their heart on their sleeve, 'live fast and leave an attractive corpse', seems like they're on drugs but they probably aren't on drugs.

dior - road trips with friends, artistic, was a dryad in another life, watercolors and subtle shifts of light, can grow or cook anything, fresh air or no air, always has a smile, has probably donated to a kickstarter or a gofundme at some point, tie dye, wild hair and wild hearts, driving with the windows down. do no harm but take no shit.

armani - austere, doesn't show their emotions on their face, likes fancy things, cries only when alone, 'make me your villain', unbreakable like diamonds and steel, incredibly loyal, opera glasses, ball gowns, and tuxedos, otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

prada - ceo entrepreneur born in 1964, meeee, me me me, always about me, red lipstick, winged eyeliner, clicking heels, power suits always, never a hair out of place, runs on caffeine, working brunches, networking events, ubers only, vision boards, manifestation, ted talks, listens to podcasts on their hot girl walk.

premium --

fendi - leave a message after the tone, half-drunk cups of coffee, hastily written notes, messy room, band tees, missed calls at 2am, long voice memos with too many tangents, an extensive tbr that never goes down, sleep is for the weak, does sudoku to calm the mind, startup businesses, renovating a van to travel the world.

chanel - ribbon in your hair, strawberry chapstick, flower crowns, rom coms, black and white photos, his and hers pillows, sundresses and sandals, messy ponytails, fairy lights, always remembering your manners, doesn’t curse, fresh peonies, half-used bottles of fruity perfume, white toenails, charlotte tilbury makeup.

versace - classy, likable, piano keys and curls of cigarette smoke, smiles for everyone but real smiles for the real ones, golden hour, always keeps your secrets, demure, never jumps to conclusions, wears berets unironically, always offering a helping hand, being the sunshine in everyone else’s life, voice as sweet as honey, being the knight in shining armor, family dinners around a table, saving everyone but yourself.

vuitton - the smell of old books, constellation tattoos, day controlled by the horoscope, curls of cigarette smoke, bagels for breakfast, notes scribbled in notebooks, sleeves pushed up over forearms, cosy knit sweaters, endless cups of tea, messy buns, highlighting your favourite passages in a book, always the follower never the leader.

gucci - settling down? no thank you, strumming guitars, takeaway coffee cups, sofa surfing, gigs at 4am, borrowed socks, septum piercings, too many tabs, sleepovers on the beach, fresh tattoos, red-eye flights, ignored alarms, always always running, may the bridges i burn light the way.

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[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! 😘😘😘😷😍💖

[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.