Imagine -one shots-

The Model

You stare in awe at his beautiful form, a bit annoyed that it is displayed across advertisements and billboards. His collared shirt is unbuttoned as he smirks at the camera.

What can you expect from a model though? You think to yourself a bit glumly.

You make your way into your apartment finally, slipping your shoes off, and placing your bag on the floor with a sigh.

He steps out of the kitchen, still in his pajamas it appears. Yet, even with his slightly disheveled appearance, he manages to look stunning as he flashes you a grin and pecks your lips in greeting.

His flawless skin shines at you, and his white muscle-tank displays his fine body nicely.

You can’t help but feel utterly hideous in his presence, as you take in your own wind-blown hair and slightly sweaty forehead due to walking back from the grocery store.

“I got the milk,” you smile weakly as you walk past him.

“You didn’t have to,” he sighed, “I could’ve had someone bring us some.”

You frown and pause in your actions of putting the milk in the fridge, “I like to do things on my own,” you state quietly, annoyed with his rich-boy attitude.

You then shove the milk in the fridge and grab your hair into a messy bun as you continue to feel overly hot from the walk.

“Yes, I know,” he sighs, “You’re an independent woman….” He looks at you with his gorgeous, deep apologetic eyes, his perfect cupid’s bow lips forming a pout, “What I should’ve said, is that I could have gotten it for you,” he tries again, smiling hopefully, his defined jaw shifting as he grins.

“You would’ve been bombarded by paparazzi,” you sigh, shaking your head and walking out of the kitchen to get changed.

You change quickly into a tank top and shorts, and then step out of the bathroom, to meet a hard chest.

“I don’t know what to say… I feel as though you’re doing to much… or I’m not doing enough… or both,” he sighs, rubbing his neck in an unsure manner, “I’m sorry… I’m trying to make it better,” he murmurs.

You smile softly at him, “Calm down, there’s nothing for you to apologize for,” you laugh, “I like doing all of this… It makes me feel capable,” you reply, “I don’t have my looks to rely on for things, like you do,” you state, gesturing at your own features, “So I’m proud to know I can still get along fine with out all of that,” you explain tiredly.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he shakes his head stubbornly, scanning your face with his stunning gaze.

You give him a questioning look.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers, pulling you to his chest.

“I’m not a model is what I meant, but thank you…” you reply, still smiling softly at him, though your face was now a bit flushed.

“You’re my model,” he states possessively, kissing you on the lips lightly.