Anon keeps his head down. Around him, the streets of Canterlot are crowded with dozens upon dozens of high-class ponies, each with dresses more expensive than his house and with noses held so high it’s a wonder that they don’t go blind from staring at the sun all day. Of course, keeping his head down only serves to make the situation worse, as the height disparity mixed with so many lifted noses means he’s making awkward eye contact with a lot of disgusted old fillies and gentlecolts.
Suddenly, he feels a jolt. Someone slams against one of his legs, nearly toppling him to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going, freeloader.”
Beneath the sea of ponies, he never gets a good look at his assailant. Of course, it hardly matters anymore. With nothing more than a shake of his head, he continues on his way.
It doesn’t take long until he passes by a newsstand. Being Canterlot, it’s about as fancy of a newsstand as one can get, with intricately carved lining adorning the window. Still, newspapers are newspapers, and while he has no intention of buying one, the big, bold headline and accompanying picture catch his eye, albeit briefly.
“Canterlot’s Premier Supermodel Fleur de Lis now Fleur De-Listed! Rumors of Foul Play!”
Beneath such an enticing headline is a black-and-white photograph, taken Celestia-knows-when, of one of the most beautiful mares in the country. Her pristine mane, well-kept coat, and impossibly thin figure make her eye catching to the extreme, almost to the point where the human towering awkwardly over her escapes one’s eye entirely. She wraps an arm around the human’s waist, though his face isn’t even in the frame. Most would assume that the pair is a happy couple, or perhaps good friends, if not for the ominous headline framing the photograph.
Anon tears his eyes away as he continues to walk. Just shy of the corners of Alabasta Street and Jaya Boulevard is an unassuming alley, used mostly by the neighboring tea shop as a garbage dump. It’s dark, it’s lonely, and it’s the perfect shortcut for someone wanting to avoid attention. Not long after passing through such an alley, his destination is barely a stone’s throw away.
He tries to appear small as he approaches an impressively large villa. This section of Canterlot is home to many such villas, and as a result, there are fewer ponies out and about. Still, it only makes his tall human form stick out even more than it did in the busier streets. Shuffling up to the grand set of double doors, he knocks.
He barely has to wait five seconds until the sound of shuffling on the other side causes his ears to perk up.
“Just a second, these locks are the most annoying thing ever.”
A few moments later, the doors finally open just a crack. He sees two beautiful, purple eyes staring at him from the darkness within. Said eyes go wide before the pink-grey aura of magic emanates from an unseen horn and pulls him through the doors, but not before the flash of a camera goes off on the far side of the street.
“Go away!” the mare shouts before slamming the doors shut. “Good evening, love.”
“Well, it is now,” Anon chuckles as he begins to remove his jacket. The villa’s foyer is just as impressive as the building’s exterior, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen dozens of times before. “How are you holding up? Your trip to the Crystal Empire go well?”
“Oh, yes! The royal photo shoot was gorgeous, and the pictures turned out beautifully! They’ll be all over the magazines in no time!”
“Yeah, assuming those photos the paparazzi took of us don’t make it there first.”
“Are you still worried about something as simple as paparazzi? Hah!” Fleur de Lis, the “premier supermodel” on the cover of the newspaper, lets out an airy, adorable laugh as she hangs Anon’s jacket on a nearby rack before guiding him further into her home, leading him down a long, pristine hallway and into a comfortable living space. She moves with grace and practiced ease, practically gliding across the floor and onto what has to be the world’s most luxurious sofa. Next to her, Anon looks downright clumsy as he plops down at her side. “They can do nothing to us. And if they try, I can always give Photo Finish a call. She still owes me a favor or two!”
Fleur winks. Even in the dim room lit only by the moonlight pouring through a nearby wall made of glass overlooking a well-maintained garden, her violet eyeshadow seems to sparkle, adding an alluring flare to her already mesmerizing eyes.
“Glad you have that under control, I guess.” Anon sighs before leaning back in his seat. “I’m sorry you have to deal with it in the first place.”
“Oh, love, there is no need to blame yourself! I knew what I was getting into when we began this little, how you say, elopement!”
“Wrong word, dear.”
“Not if I had my way, it wouldn’t be~!”
Anon blinks, but chooses to brush off her insinuation. At least, he tries to. His red cheeks tell a different story.
“Still, I’m sure this would be way easier for you if I were a stallion.”
“Love, even if you were a stallion, we’d still be making a lot of ponies mad. Mares would say you’re too poor and that I’m too good for you. Stallions would say… well, whatever they want. Out of jealousy, of course. I am a catch.”
“And so humble, too!”
“I am only messing around!” In a display of almost freakish flexibility, Fleur worms her way across the sofa from a seated position to resting her head in Anon’s lap, looking up at him with big, expectant eyes. “Anyway, there would be a scandal no matter who I chose to date. I am simply happy I found someone like you to begin with.”
She reaches up to boop his nose, a declaration of war if ever he’s seen one. He returns the gesture, though he doesn’t stop at her nose. He drums his fingers along her cheek, coaxing a giggle out of her before running his hand down the length of her neck. When he finds a spot that he just knows needs some attention, he applies some gentle scritches. Not too intense, lest he damage her coat, but just enough to have her melting in his lap.
“The fingers don’t hurt either~!”
“Quiet, or the journalists camping outside might get the wrong idea.”
“Let them,” she purrs. “I have the weekend off from modelling, and I’m all yours.”
“All weekend, huh? I can work with that.”
“I have one condition, though.” The scritches stop momentarily as he locks eyes with her, though there’s a playful glint in said eyes of hers that coax a smile out of him. “I am going home to Prance next week for another photo shoot. I’d like for my loving, how you say, boy toy to go with me.”
“That’s also most definitely not the phrase you think it is.”
“My point stands. I’m tired of hiding in here, love. I want to show you off. Let the paparazzi take pictures, I’m sure my colleagues can do something about it. Besides, I want you to meet my parents. Or have them meet you, I suppose.”
“You sure about this? I don’t mean to intrude, but I can’t exactly afford to cover myself for a trip to Prance of all places.”
Anon is a cartoonist working for a popular line of comic books. In other words, a poor dork dating a rich supermodel. It’s like something out of a movie. Or a crappy sitcom. Or a fanfiction.
“Don’t worry! I have planned for this, too!”
“W-wow, that’s very–”
“You will be a part of one of my shoots!”
His hands cease their gentle caresses on her lithe form as he suddenly freezes.
“Your shoots? Like, photographs? Of models?”
“Sometimes, love, I am hired to showcase a product. Other times, I am the product.” She gives him a mischievous grin as she wraps her pretty, silky smooth tail around his waist. “And this ‘product’ comes with an accessory. If they have a problem with that, they can take it up with my agent. In the meantime, you’ll be getting paid more than enough to cover your part of the trip! No guilt necessary!”
“Wow, that’s… amazing, Fleur. I-I don’t have any experience, though.”
“Sounds like I need to teach you how to, as you say, ‘work your body right.’”
“I don’t think that’s–”
“No. That was correct.”
Her voice is still a purr, her eyes half-lidded and her grin spreading. Her horn glows once again as magic envelops the nearby curtains, covering the glass wall and the moonlight that comes with it. Bathed now in near-total darkness, she pushes herself forwards, locking lips with the human gently holding her in his comparably broad arms. He pulls her in closer as he returns the gesture, kissing back with just as much passion in the dark villa.
When they part, it’s only for an instant. They need to catch their breaths, but not any more than they need each other. Their smiles unseen in the darkness, they dive right back in, trading kisses blow for blow. One moment their lips are locked, their tongues dancing more elegantly than Canterlot’s most practiced ballet professionals. The next, Anon is covering every inch of Fleur’s cheeks with quick pecks and smooches as she giggles in delight. Another moment more and she’s doing the same to him, giving his neck a bit of extra-special care.
“Is this how mares from Prance do things?”
“No,” she mutters with a single, sensual laugh. “This is how Fleur does things. Now lie down, I wish to rest my head on your chest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Still unable to see a thing apart from her beautiful eyes, Anon smiles to himself as he gets comfortable. Sure enough, Fleur wastes no time in claiming a spot on his chest, cuddling up against his pecs and wrapping herself around him in a tight embrace. Her breathing is gentle, almost completely inaudible. As always, it’s as though every little move she makes is practiced, more perfect than it should be. She’s incredible, in every sense of the word.
And best of all, she loves him. Even when the world turns the other way, when ponies want to try their hardest to ensure that their happiness is short-lived, she has eyes for him and him alone. He, of course, feels exactly the same. The papers will all tell the same story, that whatever they have is far from a model relationship.
But to them, it’s as perfect as could be.
Author's Note
A quick fic made by a sleep-deprived mind for a friend with an obsession with a very pretty mare. 
