#Marquis Fluff

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can you do a one shot where the reader is getting harassed by someone in a fancy party and while running away, the marquis backs her up and gets her away from that guy. They talk and they start to bond

“How do you even know these people?” You ask your friend Bethany, as she drives up the driveway of a massive estate.

You’d been driving towards the sprawling mansion for at least a mile. The grounds were all manicured and as you got closer to the home, you could see a large fountain before the entrance. There was even a valet.

Turning to your friend, you asked her again, but she just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Rolling your eyes, you checked yourself out in the visor mirror and decided to reapply your lipstick.

You’d known Bethany since grade school, and you never were really close, but you’d party together sometimes. Her mother had married some rich guy a few years back, so now she ran in a different crowd.

When she’d called you earlier today and asked if you wanted to go to a party, you’d been excited just to see her again. Now you weren’t so sure. She’d changed a lot.

No more was the sweet girl that snorted when she laughed and only wore sneakers. She looked like she had gotten several cosmetic procedures, was dressed head to toe in designer couture, and had made you go change your outfit twice before she’d let you in her car.

Speaking of her car, you’d never been in a Bentley and felt very nervous about messing it up. You had been nervous to sully the car with yourself, and had felt like you were in some alternate reality.

As the valet opened your door and helped you out of the car, you didn’t feel any less out of place.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Bethany whispered to you as she took you by the arm and led you up the stairs to the front door: “you’re the only one from my old neighborhood that looks the part, if you can just act like it, we can go to more parties like this and maybe you can meet a rich guy and get out of the slums as well. “

Your eyes widened at her insult of her prior neighborhood. It wasn’t the slums at all! Your neighborhood was an upper middle class working people type neighborhood. The houses were average size and everyone took pride in their appearance. There were no run down homes in your neighborhood, and you all looked out for each other. Like when Mrs Dewey’s husband died and she was on a fixed income, and couldn’t paint the exterior of her home, the whole neighborhood got together and made a day of it. She cooked everyone a meal and next thing you knew it was a block party. Bethany had been there that day, and you remember how happy and carefree you both had felt.

Looking over at your friend now, hardly recognizable with her new nose, lips, and face injected with fillers, new hair that must be extensions, fake tan, fake nails, fake tits, fake lashes, fake teeth, and likely a bunch of other things you didn’t know to look for, you couldn’t help but feel bad for her. You couldn’t imagine allowing some doctor to butcher you into something society liked to look at. Everything that had made her different, and truly beautiful was gone.

As you followed your friend inside, you were too distracted by how similar all the women here looked to even notice the ostentatious wealth that surrounded you. Everywhere you looked you saw women that were thin with breasts and bums that didn’t look like natural proportions. They all seemed to have the same nose and lip doctor, and all appeared to be variations of the same kind of doll.

Offhandedly, you wondered how much time these women spent healing. You’d never had any work done, beyond getting your wisdom teeth taken out, but that probably didn’t count.

“Hello? Where did you go? Come back to earth, I want you to meet my friends, and I swear to God, if you embarrass me girl…” Bethany warned you, with a fake smile for appearances on her face.

Noticing a group of people looking expectantly between the two of you, you could already tell by the way they looked you over, that you weren’t going to like them. Pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind, you decided to make the best of this night, and not judge anyone before you spoke to them.

Bethany introduced you as her childhood friend, and then listed a brief list of your accomplishments and interests, as if she were at a livestock auction, talking up the next beast up for sale.

They appeared to be 3 couples and one single man, that had walked up half way through Bethany’s introduction and visibly flustered Bethany when she turned to see him standing there.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing as she stumbled over her words, before falling into an awkward half bow, half curtsy turning the color of a stop sign.

Although the man was extremely statuesque, attractive, and well dressed, he also appeared to be no older than his late twenties and appeared to be friendly. Maybe she had a crush on him? You didn’t know, but you did know you were thirsty.

Looking around the large Ballroom, you could see a bar not far from your group, and decided to just go grab some drinks while your friend got her wits about her. She just needed a drink to take the edge off.

As the bartender prepared your Long Island ice teas, you turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat right next you.

It was one of your friends acquaintances, so you smiled and turned your attention back to your drinks being made.

“So why did you run away? Scared of the Marquis, or just don’t find any of us appealing?” He asked you.

Looking at him incredulously, you shook your head and told him that taken men weren’t your type. “Furthermore, I don’t even know if anyone even holds a Marquis title anymore. Last time I checked, most of the aristocracy was wiped out during the Revolution.”

“That whore isn’t my girlfriend. She’s been run through by more guys than your dear friend Bethany. They’re just a bunch of spoiled rich girls, that me and my boys are sick of, so we told them to bring us fresh meat.” The guy chuckled, before reaching over and taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. “This is your real hair isn’t it? I’ve never seen you before, and I would have noticed you.”

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you side stepped away from him, and decided to just ignore him. You knew guys like this, and nothing you said to defend your friend, or tell him what a jerk he was, would be able to penetrate his ego.

“You really have no idea who I am do you?” He asked as he took your hand in his and tried to pull you back over to him.

Planting your feet firmly, and flashing him your fakest smile, you attempted to pull your hand from his, but he was gripping it so tightly, it was almost painful. Not wanting to make a scene, you blocked out what he was saying into your ear, and nearly jumped for joy when the bartender delivered your drinks.

“Looks like I need my hand back,” you told him, batting your eyelashes at him, like you weren’t desperate to escape him. “I need to carry our drinks.”

Glancing at the two drinks before you, he pulled you closer to him, with an expression on his handsome face that you were sure he thought was alluring. Too bad it had the opposite effect on you.

“Listen buddy, I’m trying to be polite, but if you don’t let my hand go, we are going to have a problem.” You bit out, unwilling to be touched by this jerk another second.

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you arrogantly, “ooh so you’re from the working class. Lucky for you, so am I. You look like you belong here, but you really just won the DNA lottery and look this way naturally. You see, every woman in this room pays me hundreds of thousands of dollars to look like you. I must say tho, you are exquisite. I’ve never said this to anyone, but I don’t think you need anything done. Maybe some nice fuller breasts? Would you like that? I can make that happen for you. I could make anything you want happen.”

You were shocked by the things this guy was saying to you, and it only got worse, the more he spoke. “Are you fucking with me? Bethany had to have put you up to this right?” You laughed out loud at how long it took you to catch on to the prank. No one was this delusional. When your laughing calmed a bit and you turned to see his dumbfounded face, you burst out laughing again.

“Oh my God! Ok ok! You can stop. You’re an amazing actor. I honestly thought you were seriously some ego maniac that I was going to have kick in the balls to eacape from!” You watched as his expression grew more confused, before his jaw tightened, lips thinned and he glared menacingly at you.

That wasn’t good. Once again unsure of this man’s intentions, you snatched your hand away, picked up the drinks, and made a mad dash to Bethany.

Finding Bethany still speaking to the mystery guy, you quietly stood next to her and placed the drink in her hand. Before you could introduce yourself, Mr. Wonderful stormed over, had excused himself and said he had to speak to Bethany about a pressing matter.

Bethany looked at you accusingly, but let the guy pull her off to the side.

“Pressing matter my foot.” You stated out loud, forgetting you weren’t alone.

“I think you have hurt Andres feelings.”

Turning to the mystery man, you rolled your eyes and smiled. “Only if he was honestly hitting on me, and not just playing a prank on me. Bethany and I used to mess with people all the time. We were terrible children. He’s probably upset I caught on. He acted like he was some big plastic surgeon, that has run through all the women here, so he ordered Bethany and her friends to bring them new sacrifices. He even offered me new boobs, and I laughed so hard I think I peed a little.”

The man’s eyebrows drew together and he asked if you needed assistance cleaning up, or a change of clothes and you couldn’t help but warm to him a bit.

“I didn’t literally pee, it’s an expression. And I’m afraid to ask why you have spare women’s clothing in your car or something.” You said.

“I have clothing of various sizes in one of the guest -“ he started to say before being cut off.

“I’m sorry Marquis, but I need to take her back home,” Bethany stated overly cheerily.

“Why?” You asked.

Bethany gave you an exasperated look. “I’ll tell you on the way to the car.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? Is it because of your creep of a friend?”

Bethany’s eyes widened and she looked between you and the Marquis close to snapping.

“I don’t think your friend wants to leave.” The Marquis started.

“She’s not my friend. She’s an acquaintance from years ago. I thought she was cool, but turns out she’s not.” Bethany stated, before turning to you again. “It’s time to go. You wore out your welcome, and they don’t want you here.”

Your mind started to race with what to do. You honestly weren’t too shocked that Bethany had turned on you so quick. You internally cringed when you realized that guy wasn’t kidding and had been being serious.

You contemplated telling Bethany what her “friend” thought of her, but before you could organize what to say, the Marquis stepped between you and Bethany, facing her.

“I’ve got her from here. You may go join your friends.” He said.

“With all due respect, I brought her here. She’s nobody. Just a girl I used to know that’s pretty, so I brought her here to meet my friends but she thinks she’s too good for everyone and was really rude to him for no reason.” Bethany explained.

The Marquis just chuckled shaking his head. “I know Andre very well, and I can guarantee there’s a reason.” Turning his back to her in dismissal, he offered for you to take his hand.

Glancing over his shoulder at Bethany’s furious expression, you turned your attention to the nice mystery Marquis, and followed him to the dance floor.

[cochineal-leviat]

Marquis Fluff reference The Midnight Soirée chapter 1 to 5

It's Fluff's turn!

Kirby 1-2

A warning for spoilers for the Midnight Soirée. Please go read that first if you're interested in the story. Please enjoy

Back reference without Fluff's long hair.

Colour Pallete:

All Fluff's colours are saturated, and compared to Kirby, who uses all colours - Fluff only uses the CMYK colour palette except the green for the leaves. (Cyan, magenta, yellow and key colour. The key colour is usually black or brown, with the latter fitting in here. And well, the cyan is more blue, but I ended up using it for Fluff's eyeshadow.) CMYK is known as print colours and are subtractive, which means the more colour you add, the darker it becomes. The opposite is RGB colours, which are additive colours. The more colour you add, the closer it becomes to white, with white being every colour. RGB is used in electronic displays like TVs, phones and computer screens, and eye cones are also RGB. Though very rarely, people are born with four cones rather than three. Animals like the mantis shrimp have sixteen colour receptors and can see in more colours than we do. 

Clothes:

From top to bottom: we have his wooden crown. In my extra trivia chapter from the Midnight Soirée, I explained how all fae royalty wear flower crowns when they marry and afterwards. But since Fluff is a bachelor, he does not wear a flower crown. So, he dons a crown of wood instead. A few small branches grow from it, resembling horns, as Fluff's true form has four horns. 

All the gems on his person are diamond-shaped. This is because the shape of a diamond represents perfection, which is also why I used the diamond pattern on his jacket. Although with the shading, the diamonds look like triangles, considered half or incomplete perfection. They also resemble cushions, which refers to Patchland being made from arts and crafts. 

The jacket of a concerto maestro with their long tailcoats inspired Fluff's overcoat. Fluff's coattails resemble broken clipped dragonfly wings; the top half is missing, and Fluff's pouldrons are very prince-like. Kirby never thought Fluff was a prince because his crown was humble compared to the royalty Kirby knew. Duke Dedede wears a singlet, which is normal for Dreamland Nobility. A passage in Chapter 1 explains this as crowns are passed down the aristocracy family tree from the head of the family to the next heir. 

Before designing the characters, I had already visualised the starlight tights, which fit well with Kirby's starry night cape. They resemble Lapiz Lazuli, which are some magnificent stones. They have these golden flecks in them and crushed are called Ultramarine, which is a very vibrant dark blue powder. It was believed that wearing lapis lazuli warded off bad spirits, and in Ancient Egypt, they crushed the stone to wear the powder as eyeshadow. 

Fluff's shoes are styled like flowers/vines that wrap around the foot and legs like boots but have the appearance of high heels. It is both elegant and intimidating. A fun detail is that they, from the front, resemble hooves from a bovine. Which is not the correct animal, but hell, why not? It is one of the few drafts I kept from the first sketch because it fits well. 

Without the sash. Marquis Fluff gave his sash to Kirby in chapter 2

Close up from face. I had a lot of fun designing the makeup for Fluff in this AU.

Fluff's glamour is constructed out of many things. However, as a fae, Fluff has no hair shine as a human like Kirby does. Neither do Fae have eyelights. You can see it best in this close-up. The only light that reflects back is on Fluff's clothes or gems. This is why the only light is at the bottom of Fluff's hair, as it is a gradient. This is because the fae use an illusion to hide their true yet ever-changing eldritch forms. So Fluff's eyes and hair are fake, so his skin and really everything about him. It is all magic, which is why, throughout the night, he changes appearances so rapidly and why his expressions can go from warm to cold/deadly so quickly. He mimics human expressions and mannerisms while filling the rest with fae manners. The fae are an adaptive species that outwardly change like nature as nature, even if we don't see it, is constantly adapting for survival. 

As for why Fluff decided to adapt to his form - who knows? Partly, it is to resemble the portrait that hangs in the real world in the debilitated mansion's foyer.

(remember this bad boy? Yeah, it's old but I still love the colours)

All the features that have been added or changed are meant to lure Kirby in. Fae are said to tempt people with their magical beauty and, in some instances, transform to fit the human's preferences. In some myths, it is even said when someone casts their eyes on a fae they have already lost as they are that beautiful.

Fluff took something Kirby was familiar with and was already bewitched by. Or perhaps the portrait is magical of itself and was the first part of the curse. Who knows.

Chapter 3 & Beginning

Fluff with his hair done up and a few other things. Fluff looks more elegant/handsome with his pair-up. It might be because I've been staring at Fluff's reference model with his hair down, so putting up his hair is refreshing.

Fluff was sure at this point that he and Kirby would be together as husbands, so he felt more free to express himself and put more thought into his appearance. The diamond skin from Chapter 3 to Chapter 5 is not part of his makeup, as that was his glamour starting to slip. Luckily for him, it was something that could be considered beautiful. Although the lights can look creepy in the dark as they are essentially glowing freckles. The pointed ears are also from his glamour weakening but he does not feel ashamed to hide them since Kirby knows he is Fae. Fluff's first appearance was meant to attract and yet hide his true nature so here he is much more open. 

Also, diamond earrings = symbolise perfection. Fluff looks a lot more sheep-like with his nose. 

Midpoint Chapter 4 and 5

Here, Fluff is without his maestro jacket - seemingly vulnerable as he wanted to be left alone. Despite his obvious otherness, he seems more down to earth in his upset state. We also see his shirt and hands without his blue coat/gloves covering them, so that's neat. I had a lot of fun designing the ruffled shirt. I wanted to ensure it was not a stale design when I eventually disregarded the jacket for Fluff's angry/hurt role in those two chapters. 

Oh yeah, Fluff is pissed, alright. Well, he is more hurt, but he gets to be angry too. Even if he understood deep down, it was a misunderstanding. He was so close to one's goal, and finding someone who he could love and loves suddenly reject him stung. As did Kirby returning after they rejected him. Fluff did away with all the makeup and jewellery. Even his crown of wood/thorns is gone. His hair is messy, and his eyes and cheeks are covered in cracks. Yeah, Fluff does not care anymore how he is perceived in that moment. Still, he holds onto his glamour just a little longer for sentimentally. Because as hurt as he is, he did enjoy his time spent with Kirby. He also stopped glamouring his natural red peepers, and from this point, he never hides them behind the yellow lenses he conjured from the beginning of the night. They have horizontal pupils like sheep do. 

The pin in his bun is a button. 

Thank you very much for looking at my art & reading. I hope you have a wonderful day or night further! Happy spooky month (*^▽^*)

[ameliesopp]

Marquis de Gramont - you’re a tease, chérie

“I’m sorry, I got distracted by your hands, could you say that again?”, you ask with a sly little smile as you watch him place a piece of pie on your plate.

He looks up with the same sly smile and licks his lips.

“You’re a tease, chérie”, he says as he comes around the table to you, his arm wrapped around your hip, almost sweeping you off your feet as he kisses you.

You sigh into the kiss as you hold onto him, your leg angled at his hip, immediately becoming putty in his hands. He knows what kind of power he has over you and sometimes it gets so hard not to use it to his advantage. Then again, you could probably get him to do pretty much anything. Just look at him with that pleading look, saying “please, baby. For me.” And he’ll sigh and probably roll his eyes a little, but he’ll do it. Or have it done.

He pulls back to look you in the eyes and you smile at him as you gently touch his face. His gaze wanders down to your lips, gently letting his thumb run over them and you can’t help but lick them immediately. He smirks, his thumb wandering down your chin.

“Such a little tease”, he repeats as his hand lands on your waist.

“Pff. I’m not teasing. Just showing you what you could have. If you behave.”

Vincent suppresses a chuckle, but you see it’s there. You know your husband, you know his expressions better than anyone.

“Well, Madame. What do you say we…move this somewhere a little more private?”, he mumbles into your ear and you have to smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[dreamilymagicalhideout]

Coat

It has been a really long time since I posted something on tumblr. This was made from the bottom of my heart since I don't want to work, but I have to because I have to pay my bills *sad*. Here it is, I hope you guys like it.

Marquis Vincent de Gramont x f!reader

~

You take off your high heels and put it on the side. Your socks still cling to your feet. You were walking through your bedroom. Feeling the cold ties below you. You look around the fancy apartment, searching for Vincent.

You told him that you wanted to meet him to talk about something, which he did not reply as he seemed to be sulking at you because you were too busy with your work these days. He felt like you neglected him and yes, you have to admit that it is true.

This month was the last month of your contract. Your company wanted to extend it. However, you on the other hand, was not keen on the idea. You just worked there because you have bills to pay. It's not like it is your dream job or something. You just have to work because you need money. But all of it has changed since Vincent entered your life.

That tall handsome man with expensive suits managed to entered your life somehow, despite all the differences between the two of you. It has been a year since you met him. You still remember your first meeting with him. Your company was known to be a technological company who offered a course for a middle aged workers who happens to be lost in this digital era. And it turns out that your boss was an acquaintance of him.

:readmore:

You met him at the company's party. Which he attended and surprisingly you were invited too. Later, you found out that the reason that you and some of the workers were invited was just because of their good looks.

It was clear that everyone who attended this party was out of your league. You were glad that you were not overdressed, however it seems like it was a good idea to search for fresh air for a moment.

You were greeted by a cold air once you opened the glass door. Now you regretted choosing this type of dress where there is a low cut on your chest and a puffy shoulders. Which now make you felt cold. Even if you had a long skirt, it did not help a lot because your feet still have goosebumps.

Maybe it was not a good idea to step out here. However, going back in is not a pleasant idea either because you really loves solitude.

"You must be cold in that dress" Said someone behind you.

"Thanks for stating the obvious" you turned your head, wanted to see who was talking with you now.

"You're most welcome" He said with a smug smile on his oh-so-handsome face. You could see his face as he stood next to you. His tall body towering you even with those high heels on. You can tell that everyone here has expensive suits. However, his was seemed to be on a whole different level. His hair was styled neatly, making his forehead visible. Those long legs bent a little as he was talking to you. 

"I am sorry if I interrupt your space here" You said with the intention of returning his rudeness.

"No problem" He said as he just standing beside you. You both were just standing there without talking, but it was not a comfortable silence when you see the scenery in front of you and he was just standing there while looking at you, making you felt agitated.

I mean should he introduce himself first since he was the one who interrupted your space?

"My mom said it was rude to just stare and not introducing myself. So Y/n" You introduce yourself first since you know he did not plan on introducing himself first.

"Marquis Vincent de Gramont" well that explains the accent.

"What should I call you?"

"Vincent would be fine"

You actually wanted to just enjoy your time here alone. However, this tall person did not support your idea as he kept staring at you.

"Do you perhaps needs something?" You asked politely.

"Yes"

"Is it possible for me to help you?"

"No"

"Okay"

"I need a coat actually because it is cold here. And from what we have seen here, it seems like you dont have any coat at your disposal"

He was just being a brat.

"Forgive me for not being able to fulfill the things that you need" You said sarcastically.

"That's fine actually, you don't need to feel bad" He said playing along with you.

"You are so ungentlemanly" You said while looking at his face.

"That was my sex appeal"

"…"

You are just keep staring at anywhere but him, but those eyes still clings into you somehow. You pretend like he did not have any affect on you. As if those green eyes did not make your face burning.

"It seems like you have felt warmer somehow" He could see that your face turns redder than before. You open your mouth to say something, but your brain just freeze, so you closed your mouth. Then, you can feel someone coming, you saw someone in a black suit walking closer. You looked at Vincent while he just looking at you. Clearly did not care about the guy who was approaching you.

"Sir" The guy is the black suit gave him a white coat. He take it without looking at that guy, he did not even say thank you. His eyes were locked on you. He put the coat around you. You knitted your eyebrows. So when he said he needed a coat he meant this? For you? When did he even get it?

"Searching for a fresh air in the middle of a party where you meet a tall handsome stranger, then he gave you a coat. What could be more cliché than that?" You just stare at him in dazzlement. Literally don't know what to say. He was delighted when he saw your reaction.

"See you later" And then he left. Just like that. Leaving you all speechless. You don't even say thank you to him.

It was such a scene from a movie, however he did not ask your contact or something that could keep both of you stay connected. But somehow, he managed to find you again and make another cliché moments with you until both of you were officially a couple.

Now that you are in your apartmrnt with Vincent. You called out his name, but no one answered. You thought that he might not come since he was still mad at you, so when you saw that there is a 6'4" man sitting at the couch in front of the plasma TV you were a bit surprised.

Here is the sulking man sitting there without any intention to move or answering you. He was in his usual three piece suits. His sleek hair was pushed to the back making his forehead could be seen. He was leaning to the couch, his elbow is on the arm rest while his fingers is on his forehead. Seems like someone was bored and angry.

"Well, hello there" You greeted him while you sat next to him. You've got no response from him.

"Did you wait too long?" He was still silent.

You wrapped your hands around his arms. He swayed a little but he held himself from doing so.

"I have a news that I would like to share with you" You tried to be clingy at him, batting your eyelashes as you soften your voice. He seems to be insterested as his eyes were looking at you.

"What is it?" Oh! It speaks!

"You must be pleased to hear it" he arched his eyebrows, waiting for your next words.

"I am no longer working because my contract has ended" You were looking at him in the eyes while you said that. You could see the glimmer in his eyes as you said those words.

"WelI, I have you all to myself then" He said as he starts to wrap his arms around you. His body which seemed to be unmoved was now moving to you.

"What do you mean? I'm always yours" You said with the smile on your lips. You could tell that he was amused when his lips turned into a smile too.

"I like where this conversation is going" he studied your face as you look at him.

"I see that you are now unemployed. Now I hired you as my Personal Assistant"

"Is this serious?"

"Deadly serious. Now come on" He held your hand as he guided you through the front door.

"Where are we going?" You realized that he has changed now, back then he was just dragging you around anywhere by your arms or wrist. Now he he did not do that anymore, he held your hands and pull you with him slowly.

"Your first job, darling. We are going to Paris" he said with a lopsided grin on his face. You could tell that he was no longer mad at you.

"I haven't even packed my things"

"You don't have to do that, it's fine"

"We haven't signed the contract yet"

"There is no contract, you are already a permanent workers" Now you know that he was just joking.

"Wait, my shoes" You are now in front of your apartment without any shoes on. The height difference between you and him are now palpable as he walked in long strides and your short feet need to catch up to them.

"You don't need those shoes"

"It seems more like a kidnapping than a work"

"Either way you love it" his smile got wider as he said that.

"Tu es un morveuse mais heureusement je t'aime" He said smugly.

(You're a brat, but luckily I love you)

"Speak English" You protested.

"Oh wait je t'aime means i love you, right?"

"I don't know. What do you think?" He asked back.

"You should teach me more French"

"Say 'je veux te baiser'"

(I want to fuck you)

He said that with a glint on his eyes and a smirked that fully morphed on his lips. He was still looking at you while walking. Really waiting for you to say those words.

"I got a feeling that somehow it was not the right thing to say"

And just like that you are now on a plane to Paris. You currently have nothing to worry about. The days of having to get up early in the morning to pay your bills were gone. The man beside you could take care of that as his outfit right now costs even more than your salary in one year even with bonuses on.

*fin*

Yes! I fell deeply in love with bill. By the way, I apologize if the French was wrong because I use google translate:). I hope to see you again in my next writing soon. Until then, take care.

[harleyqueen24]

Freedom, or not

Vincent de Gramont x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Talk about illegality, invasion of privacy, power imbalance, swearing.

WORD COUNT : 1.8k

Summary: You do your studies in Lille's city. Suddenly, Vincent come to visit you. But, you know that it’s gonna be bad.

Thank you to @murasakispace for the correction.

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/

Friday, your lessons were over. You left class with your friends, happy to have finished your group project for the semester. You wanted to go out for a drink to celebrate. Your second MASTER was over. You and your friends were so happy. You were on your way to a café, when a black limousine stopped in front of you. Its window rolled down and you saw a familiar face. He wore black glasses and had immaculate hair.

"Good evening, Miss Y/N." You knew why he was there. You knew who weas in the car and who was waiting for you. You gazed at your friends and sighed. They knew your situation and shrugged their shoulders with a broken smile. The driver continued to focus on you. "Sir waits you at..."

"The back. I know. Thank you Simon."

He replied you with a nod and pulled up the window. You gave them a little wave and smile to reassure them. They replied you with a "Salut !" and you got into the car to join the man you never wanted to see again: Vincent. He was dressed in a blue and purple checked three-piece suit. The envy of laughing at this extravagant costume overcame you. Although, you had to remain as neutral as possible so as not to start another argument. If he was here, it was because he had something important to tell you. You sat down in front of him, seriously.

These five years far away from him had done you the most good. You remembered the last time where you saw him. It was in Paris, at a dinner to celebrate his diploma. His parents had been so proud of him. Now, he was working with his father. It seemed that Monsieur was too lazy to continue his studies.

"So, are you going to speak up at some point?" he said, irritated. You had been watching from the window since you got into the limousine. The driver had the time to leave Lille and get on the motorway. It was normal for him to feel insulted. You turned your head towards him.

"It depends. If you tell me what you want."

"Chérie, we have two hours ahead of us. We have the time to come to the main issue."

"All the more reason not to talk to you. And I'm not your 'chérie'." His fists clenched. You knew he hated that. He sighed.

"You have not changed. Always so frank, serious and boring." His words were like spikes, piercing you to the core. He knew how hurt you were. Even though you were not supposed to show your feelings under any circumstances.

You looked out the window again. "And you, always so contemptuous and arrogant."

He smiled. "That's normal. It's part of my charm."

"Your charm. Mon cul, oui." You thought. Trees and houses were marching in front of you. A few minutes later, you realised that you were leaving the Lille area. "Where are you taking me?" you asked him.

"Are you only asking me that now?" he replied with a grin. "This is a surprise."

"You know that I don't like it."

"Yes, I know. That’s why I’m making you one."

You sighed. "You annoy me." He smiled, proud of himself. And it was only been an hour since you had left the city. "Is it far away?" you asked him.

"The destination ? Not really." He picked up his cup of coffee and he drank a sip.

"So, are we almost there? I have a lot of work to do."

"It will wait."

It will wait? You refused. You broke your back to be the best in your class. You did everything you could to show your father the leader you’d be if you took over his business. And this man said it as if there were more important things to do. Outraged, you grabbed your PC and started working on your project.

He gazed at you and sighed. "So, you don't want to talk to me."

"I would rather work." Your fingers tapped the keyboard quickly and you were so focused on your work that you lost track of time. The car pulled up and Simon opened the door. You lifted your head. "Are we there yet?"

"A few minutes ago." Vincent got out of the vehicle. You joined him and discovered where he had taken you. The great glass pyramid of the Louvre stood proudly before you. It was not the first time you had seen it. He reached out to you, waiting for you to grasp it.

"Will my fiancé please accompany me on this visit?" You gazed at his hand, then at Vincent and walked towards the main entrance without taking his hand, which was waiting for yours. He closed it, clenching his fist. "Alright." he said, annoyed.

You walked along the long corridors of the museum, observing at the paintings and statues. You stopped in front of Le Sacre de Napoléon by Jacques-Louis David. To admire it for the umpteenth time. You loved everything about this painting, the brushstrokes, the colours, the lights. It captivated you.

"Wonderful, no?" Vincent told you, next to you.

"Yes. Wonderful." You answered, stars in your eyes. "Did you know that Napoleon’s mother was not present at the son's coronation?" You asked him.

"Yes and that is why Napoleon the First asked the painter to install it."

You gazed him, surprised. "Finally, you know something."

"Why? Did you doubt it?"

"Sometimes." You continued down the long, high corridor.

After a few minutes, you saw a table. Vincent invited you to sit down. You looked around before moving to one of the two chairs. A butler came and served you tea, cakes were in front of you. Your fiancé took two teaspoons of sugar and mixed it into the tea. You decided to take the lead.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"You don't beat around the bush." he said you with a little grin. "We need to talk about..."

"If it's about the marriage, I'll stop you. Your father always reminding me." you cut him off. He laughed.

"It was not in my mind to talk about it. I just wanted to spend some time with my fiancée."

"And about what? Business?"

"Oh, you know how to talk to me, Bébé."

"Don't. Call. Me. Like. This." you said, enraged.

"Wow! Calm down! It was a joke."

"It wasn't fun." You sighed and took your cup of tea to drink. You observed at a few paintings while your fiancé talked. For almost an hour, he only talked about his business with his father. But one thing caught your attention: your father's business. Vincent knew a lot about it. Even a little too.

"Working with your father gives us something extra."

You fixed. "What do you mean?" you said, confused. He put down his cup and crossed his legs.

"The illegal art market is not very well known, only the richest have access to. But that’s what gives it its charm and power. Doing business with your father is always a pleasure."

You stood up suddenly. "An illegal market?" you exclaimed. You knew nothing of your father’s activities or of his relationship with the Marquis. Although, you did know one thing: art is above all a passion and pure. That's what your father taught you. Your father would never have tolerated this. Vincent watched you, intrigued.

"What?"

"What? What! Tu te rends compte de ce que tu viens de dire ?"

"Judging by your reaction, I see your father didn’t tell you."

It was right. Your father didn't tell you anything about his business. At the same time, you had gone to another town, a two-hour drive from Paris. So, you didn't know much.

"My father? Doing that? That's impossible..." you murmured.

"If you weren’t so far from Paris, you might know the latest."

You glared at him. You remembered why you had gone to Lille. You didn’t want to hear him, see him, or even feel him. You didn't want to listen to this guy who was going to be your husband. Just thinking about it mad you want to throw up. He took a sip of his tea when you said:

"Maybe if you didn’t exist, I could live my little quiet life by my side."

His jaw clenched. He hated it when you said things like that. It touched his ego. He put his cup down violently. "Because you think I’m happy to marry a woman as boring as you?" Now, it was your turn to go mad. You stood up quickly and walked towards one of the museum's many corridors. Vincent sighed and followed you.

"Y/N!"

He called you, but you didn't care. You were so angry when you heard him. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your handle. You turned in front of him, violently. You were standing in front of La Liberté guidant le peuple by Eugène Delacroix.

"What? Are you gonna ask me again why I’m angry? Why am I reacting like this? Or are you gonna ask me why I'm running away?"

"I..."

"No! Don't talk! I’m talking here!"

He took a breath and folded his arms. You continued to speak. "I was very happy to be in Lille. Happy to be doing something with my life. And just for what? A job. A fucking job that I know I may never achieve." You took a breath, before continuing. "And you... You’re back in my life after two fucking years. Two fucking years of doing what I wanted, going to parties, making friends and studying what I wanted. I was free!" His eyes widened. He wanted to speak but no words came out. "Do you understand, now? Your mere presence reminds me that I could never be happy!"

"And for me? Don’t you think I feel the same way?"

You smiled. "It's different for you. You’ve always accepted what your father told you to do. Like a good boy to his daddy!"

"Don't talk about my father like that! Did those girls you hang out with teach you that vocabulary? I should have kept a better eye on your entourage!"

Your eyes widened. What? Did he spy on you and your friends? "Unbelievable. You were spying on me!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're my fiancée!"

"Et alors ? That's not a reason!"

"For me, si !"

A bodyguard suddenly interrupted you. "Sir."

"What?" you said together. For the first time, you agreed on the same thing. Which surprised you. The man in the corstard scraped his throat before he spoke. It smelled bad all that stuff.

"Sorry to bother you, but…"

"Talk!" Vincent shouted.

"I have to inform you that your father is dead."

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

Translate French - English :

MASTER : degree after 5 years of study.

Salut ! : Hi!

Monsieur : Sir

Chérie : Darling

Mon cul, oui : My ass.

Bébé : Baby

Tu te rends compte de ce que tu viens de dire ? : Do you realize what you just said?

Et alors ? : So what?

Si ! : Yes!

[twistedbloodstain]

keith toshko x reader: and you feel like home. | what’s love for us?

plot: the one where keith meets the one.

warnings: grumpy! reader, sensitive language (just cursing yall), pining from keith, himself and there’s no happy ending. (ambiguous)

masterlist

keith watches her.

a sweet melody produced from the violin and the bow echoes from the cavernous hall. she sat on a monoblock chair as she played the tune printed on the sheet paper. fur elise dances through his ears as he stands on the second floor, mesmerized with her movements. her eyes were shut, but her hands were focused on the instrument on her hands, as if she and the object were one.

he watches her in admiration. he always enjoyed watching people play their thing, there was always a certain aura that passionate musicians bring whenever they were in their element. this was no different, he could feel the devotion radiating through the place as you played.

her posture was stiff and composed, like her grip on the musical instrument, her hands gripped the instrument almost too tightly as if it was bound to her like chains. but there was lovely passion it emitted, like the violin was her lifeline. she was focused, extremely focused. right now, no one could deter her from playing.

as the music slowly comes to an end, she flutters her eyes open and her shoulders relax. she gets up on her feet and reaches for her case slinged on the chair to delicately place the violin back to its proper space when unused, keith feels tempted to clap and applaud for her piece because indeed, it was beautiful but he was afraid he might come off as a creep stalking on you.

he was already awkward to talk to, fumbling and rambling his words and often saying the wrong things or being excessively blunt with who he was speaking to, it was all unintentional but if that wasn’t enough it would be really bad if he came across as another dude ogling at a girl from the second floor, primarily as it doesn’t leave a good impression when initiating conversation.

he’s supposed to leave but he can’t. there’s a pull in him that wants to converse with her even if he’s not really good with it, he can at least try. he always welcomed an exchange of a fellow musician’s words and talent. but he contemplated wondering how would he even approach her or what words he’d say to her that wouldn’t lead to an unpleasant strain floating through the air.

silence always meant neutrality. not in his case though, silence often deepened the grave of awkwardness, making him contemplate to himself with the next set of words he would say but only for the person he’s addressing to completely lose interest and cough up an excuse to leave.

keith knows how to converse, there are several people who are proof of that excluding his family. he has spoken comfortably and smoothly with strangers that sometimes lead to intriguing conversations, it’s just that when it comes to speaking with him. you need to be patient, to hear and listen to what he has to say. the people who lost interest when speaking to him were often straightforward people who rolled their eyes at his rambling which only makes him ramble even more, when he visibly sees their annoyance.

nevertheless,he does know his worth as a person. he knows that if they’re not interested with what he has to say then they’re not worth hearing it. but with you he might be willing to make an exception,he really wants to speak with you.

he decides to just wave at her when she turns around. simple. then maybe he can catch up on her at the exit, foolproof.

he feels like a wildlife photographer attempting to take a picture with a deer, except it’s a trap of conversation with little to no chances of failing.

his plan makes him smile, glad that somehow he might not fuck up his first impression with you but fate seems to always have it out for him, whenever he has a chance to do something simple in his life some inevitable force out there comes back to throttle his neck and ruin everything.

because before he can make the friendly gesture you’ve already turned around to face the sea of chairs and him on the terrace of the second floor. your face is slightly astounded from the sight of him, likely confused why he was watching you, staring at him hardly with a firm curiosity in your eyes.

for a moment keith panics and freezes from your stare, you don’t seem pleased to see him. out of dismay, keith suddenly raises his hand and waves, too eagerly.

you blink at him and raise your eyebrows then just gaze at him. like really hard, your frown deepens at his gesture, still frozen on your spot with bow and violin on hand. your frozen state is nothing out of shock though, not like a deer in headlights but something like a lion awakened from slumber in their cave.

as if that wasn’t making him more nervous than he already is, the worst thing is you made no friendly gesture to reciprocate his wave and he realizes that it basically cemented that his presence was unwanted by you.

he flinches on the inside and slowly backs away, he can feel your eyes wander on him as he disappears.

he stumbles through the rows of books in deep thought, searching for the specific textbook his friend asked him to fetch. he was already looking for it for the past thirty minutes, he began to doubt the sharp memory of the librarian since she mentioned that it would be easy to find. she’d told him that he’d find it nearly five rows behind, every row looking more and more ancient than his own grandparents.

as he trudged through, he couldn’t help but reminisce of what happened earlier. annoyance and shame filling his veins as he remembers the details of the short encounter.

idiot, of course she didn’t like that. why the hell would she wave back at a stranger? he muses to himself.

he realizes that maybe that approach didn’t seem as friendly as he'd envisioned in his head. perhaps, he should’ve done that somewhere closer so you wouldn’t immediately shut down his approach. your silence was quiet but it spoke volumes, there were always things that even words cannot do justice.

he checks the titles in the spines of the previous books he saw, maybe he missed it and he was already wasting his time. it’s not like he was in a rush, after all today was some sort of a self imposed day off. right now, he has all the time in the world. however the current shame he possessed right now made the day feel longer than it should be and the desire to hide himself in his room and sleep off the shame was tempting.

he hears the voices of students chatting about certain academic tasks or homeworks a terror professor had assigned and the footfalls of exhausted learners as they searched for a book containing a piece of information that the internet doesn’t offer. looks near impossible, but the chances are low but never zero.

he senses someone enter the aisle between the two rows of books, he doesn’t look back, probably another stressed out and sleep deprived college student that wants to drop out. he feels the individual walk past behind him, he focuses back to the books lined up on the shelf, double checking if he missed the proper textbook he was looking for.

he hears someone clear their throat.

he ignores it and focuses on the books.

dry throat, probably. likely, not trying to get his attention.

someone clears their throat again.

this time, he uninterestedly spares a quick glance to the source of that sound then returns to the textbooks.

wait.

holy shit.

he hastily snaps his gaze back up.

god, it’s you.

no. not like god from heaven.

but you. the one playing the violin earlier.

you stand several paces before him, with a strap across your torso, your violin case strapped behind your back out of his sight. your face is stern and unreadable, your hands clasped together in a composed structure.

his eyes widen and the hold he has with the books slowly weakens, almost dropping one of them on the floor. it’s not until he reminds himself that earlier he’d embarrassed himself to you and that cannot happen again. he won’t afford looking like a fool to you for the second time, once is a coincidence and twice is an insult.

his jaw slightly drops from shock and confusion, he blinks a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating you because that would make it even worse and more embarrassing for him.

“hi.” he breaks the silence, slowly waving his hand to you for the second time that day.

you don’t return the gesture or verbalize a reply, for a second keith wonders if he actually conjured you out of thin air because of his shame with how quiet and still you are. which would be even weirder if he saw it as an opportunity to redeem himself, still unsure with the fact if you are standing in front of him right now.

“who are you?” you finally sternly ask, although not a greeting keith is glad that you’re actually speaking to him and he didn’t hallucinate you being here.

“i’m..keith.” he hesitantly replies at the strictness evident in your tone. as a friendly gesture he extends his hand for a polite handshake, you carefully eye his movement and stare at his hand then back at his face.

“..okay.” you mutter slightly in confusion, “you from here?” you question him, the strict tone maintained in your voice.

“um, no actually. i used to go here but..it was years ago.” he meekly replies ending with a chuckle to lighten the mood. your face slightly squints from that piece of information. he deduces that you are not currently studying here as well, maybe a college graduate just like him or a teacher. you didn’t seem too young to be fresh out of school or sleep deprived like most college students are.

in fact, you were confident, in a quiet sense. anyone could read that with the way you carried yourself. the effect that you carry was an accomplished and determined aura that radiated strong enough to momentarily stun everyone in the room and enough to catch someone’s pair of eyes and intimidate if you were to speak to them.

the polished and elegant impact you have oozes through every patch of skin you wield, it numbs him as well. your aura demanded the utmost attention like it was speaking to a god.

“that so? what are you doing here?” you follow up. keith starts to feel he’s being interrogated for information, he doesn’t know what goal you're aiming at but he’s happy to comply.

“just visiting with a friend.” he replies.

“i mean, what were you doing in the theater room?” you clear up, accentuating every word with intimidation as your voice hardens, you raise your eyebrow at him with your arms crossed.

you were definitely not making friendly conversation.

“i was just watching..you play.” he mutters softly, that isn’t something he’s proud of but it’s the truth. there wasn’t wrong with that, he hadn’t done anything wrong. it felt like being stabbed when you already didn’t look pleased to see him watching you play in the theater, any brunt of your irritation would definitely feel like twisting the knife.

“and?” you follow up.

“you played really great, to be honest.” he smiles as he compliments you. a sweet compliment for a pretty girl.

…get it together keith, he reminds himself.

“there.” you harshly point out, your voice slightly rising. keith’s eyes widened once again, with the burst of tone emitting from that single word. this makes him frown as the intended effect for that compliment gave an undesired result.

“what?” he asks out of confusion.

“you were watching me play. you said it yourself.” you assert to him.

“i was…i was watching you play fur elise. something wrong with that?” he repeats once again, still not catching your drift.

“oh? don’t play dumb with me. i know your fucking game, are you one of irene’s new toys for this month? you were spying on me for that good for nothing bitch!” you mercilessly yammer at him, this takes him off guard. shock and confusion envelops his senses as you quickly spit out your bitterness at him.

the deer didn’t fall into the trap and shot him instead.

why in the world were you accusing him of something deplorable? at least to you it seems, he doesn’t even know anyone named irene, much less spying for someone? completely absurd, you were borderline insane.

he always had this inside joke with himself where most violinists are insane overachievers, always seeking to please the almost high to perfect standards of their parents which lead them to seek and mold perfection into everything as they grow into their life. like the instrument, violins require a strict precision of understanding and time to master to achieve perfection, and like their parents they’ll need to hit the right tune to make their parents play the sweet sound of validation.

everything in their life from their image and daily routine must be flawless and according to their will. a single disruption that occurs to them completely throws them off track breaking down their walls revealing their uncontrolled anger.

anger for what he could not tell. but right now he could tell you might fit into that stereotype.

“hey-hey. i don’t know anyone named irene, i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he clears up as he explains to you and raises one of his hands.

“don’t fucking lie to me.” you retort in anger.

“miss. i don’t know what you’re talking about, i watched you because you did great. i did nothing wrong and i’m not lying to you.” he defends himself, at the end he couldn’t help but laugh. clearly, there’s nothing funny about invoking rage from someone but he laughed and honestly he shouldn’t have.

“are you laughing at me?!” your voice slightly raises, full of anger and fury. bad move, christ there’s literally a saying hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“i’m-i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to, but i’m telling you the truth.” he shuts his laugh down and reassures you.

you stare at him and scoff. you eye him from top to bottom, your arms still folded on your chest. you turn away from him and walk away.

that went worse than earlier.

keith’s hand slowly shakes as he raises the glass of water to his lips, he takes a short sip of the water before delicately placing it back down. a friend inquires how he was and his current agendas in life, he politely answers a little more carefully with his words than he usually replies, his friend notices and laughs at this raising his eyebrow in a teasing suspicious manner, his eyes darting then nudging his head to the person to his right.

he hopes you don’t look at his friend. please don’t.

you were currently sitting across from him, knife and fork on hand as you nibbled away on your dinner, momentarily lifting your gaze at him. probably scrutinizing him as he sat across from the dinner table.

this was unexpected.

he couldn’t forget how wide your eyes went when you entered the dining room and saw him sitting beside your brother,

what were the chances of him eating dinner in your brother’s house? the chances of eating the dinner you and your brother made?

little…very little.

yet it’s happened.

fate really has it out for him.

earlier he was merely watching you play from yards and one floor away, you had him mesmerized and amazed with your musical talent, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you even during the talk in the library.

you were even more magnificent to see up close with only a few meters away from him, albeit the exchange ended rather unpleasant but he feels like it’s something to be thankful for, maybe it’s your aura or words that have a magnetic pull on him to keep his attention focused on you and you only.

or maybe because he finds you really intriguing.

or maybe he’s festering a little crush on you.

whatever.

now you are at least half a meter away from him and he can’t bear to look upon you. he wants to look up, so badly. but whenever he sneaked a glance , his sight was greeted with a mouth turned into a frown and eyes full of judgment, it made him hastily drop his gaze back onto the plate of food in front of him.

you, your brother and another friend of his were seated by the table, it had been lively at first. intoxicating stories and diatribes filled the room that made him forget the awkward encounter he had earlier. it felt good to talk and listen with them. he got to know about the current stuff in their life and it was nice to catch up with them. it was nice to air out thoughts he felt during tight situations that he often shoved down into the back of his head.

he began to tell them about his encounter with a girl earlier, when a click of the door creaked through the hall. the voices in the dining room began to stop, the brother called someone into the living room but no reply indicated a presence aside from the sound of entry and the thudding footsteps clicking on the floor.

he knew that his friend had family currently living in the house, he was slightly pleased with the thought of meeting the anonymous member since his friend had spoken highly of them. he often guessed it might be a sibling or cousin but no further detail was given due to how sacred you saw privacy was to you, to recount his friend’s words he said,

“i can’t tell you more than that, we’re related but they’re insanely private. like obsessed with it, they don’t want anyone to know about them unless they had met you firsthand but you’re meeting them tonight. think you’ll like them the most keith.” he says with a smile at the end.

who was to doubt that? he liked that friend very much and if this privacy obsessed mysterious person was someone he would’ve liked then it shouldn’t be a problem.

he had this vision that this stranger might be a welcoming and sweet person that would be easy to get along with, like his friend. he expected someone shy and anxious like most privacy obsessed people are. people, who are frightful of people getting to know them so hopefully it wouldn’t feel forced and still he was eager to meet said person.

but then you went through the door and broke his fantasy.

he feels his heart drop and his throat go dry.

your feet stay stationary by the entrance of the dining room, the voices of his peers slowly tuning out his ears as dread and shame sinks into his gut. your eyes filled with curiosity and sternness. once again his presence was unwelcome to you.

your right hand clasps your left wrist as you redirect your attention to his friend who is making his way to you. the formal stature you’ve reformed yourself to, soon cracked as his friend greets you to a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

oh god. had he been crushing on a friend’s girlfriend? he panics.

of course you had a boyfriend, even he was smitten with you before he even spoke a word to you. he wasn’t the only one attracted to the way you carry yourself, the way you spoke and the way you played. it had left his mind as the unexpected interactions with you jumped into his face.

his friend places his hand on your shoulder, further cementing his assumption that you two were together, until his friend speaks.

“boys, this is my lovely sister.” he cheerily introduces, “that’s james and that’s keith.” he adds, gesturing to the both of them.

his friend that remained sat on the chair, james greeted you and waved as you turned your gaze at him, when it was his turn he couldn’t help but force a tight smile for you, gripping the cutlery from discomfort.

he waits for you to speak as you take them in.

he doesn’t know what to expect from you. he doesn’t know what you were going to say.

he slightly expects you to call him out as the guy earlier in the theater and in the library. he expects you to confront him and maybe…just maybe kick him out of the house.

“i don’t think you’ve ever mentioned them to me.” you utter out.

he exhales.

okay, maybe he can salvage this.

but salvage what exactly?

your brother laughs at this and insists he did. he jokes about you being too immersed in your current engagements while he was talking about them, he motions for you to sit down with them.

now he found himself sitting across from you.

the dinner he previously enjoyed now felt like acid in his mouth as he forced it down his throat. your presence had shocked him to his core, as much as he wants to relish in this get together. the sight of you made his hands shake and his heart beat a little faster than normal.

he feels like a child when he’s around you.

that somehow and somewhat the way he breathes is wrong to you.

you reach out for the pitcher of water near him, he grabs it and you look up on him in surprise. your eyes dilate from his sudden movement and you stare at him for a while. thankfully, james and your brother were busy talking with each other and they didn’t notice the both of you.

you were still hesitant of him. that’s okay, he understands.

right now, you probably saw him as a stalker that creeped on you while playing the violin and you were probably frightened that he was now in your house and your brother’s friend.

you slowly present the intricately designed glass cup in your hand, he smiles to himself at this while he pours the water into your cup. you quietly thank him and resume eating your meal.

maybe he can fix this. maybe the both of you can talk this out.

the next time he sees you is at a christmas party, back in your house.

he knows much more about you during that and he saw you several more times when he visited your place. the interactions were much more polite and courteous compared to the first and second time.

people have always been greedy. greedy for money, power and for love, it turns them into monsters when greed looms behind them, because of that he’s learned to be content with what he hashas and know the differences between greed and ambition.

so why does he want to hear more of you?

yes, the both of you are “talking.” if you count simple pleasantries and courtesies but it feels forced and unpleasant for you. he feels like you’re only speaking but not talking, if that makes sense.

the heavy chatter of conversation is present through the living room, he notices a few friends and some of your family speaking away to their peers.

you aren’t there.

i mean, you were but you left,when people started to surge into the room.

you don’t like crowds.

and loud noises.

a grain of what your brother told you was true, you are privacy obsessed. no wonder you’re absent in the living room.

keith’s not talking to anyone right now,

not when you’re the person he wants to talk to and the only person he knows other than your brother.

he’s also drunk.

he’s been sitting here for several minutes hoping you’d come down to the living roomroom and maybe he could catch up with you.

he contemplates just leaving,seeing that you’re not going to come down.

before he can get up to leave, he hears a soft tune above the room. it’s you.

he knows it is.

he looks around and looks around but nobody except him seems to hear it, too immersed in conversation to hear the sound of the gates of heaven above them.

he slowly gets up with his drink in hand and makes his way to the stairs. he’s getting alcohol induced to function and think properly, he doesn’t get this bold much.

he softly walks up making sure not to step on the creaking wood of the stairs, as the tune sounds more clear to his ears. he doesn’t know where he’s headed but all he knows he needs to hear it.

it’s like a siren’s song to a weak-willed sailor, like a sleeping beauty being lured into her demise as he gets to the second floor and follows the sound of music to one of the rooms. once he realizes that he might be entering your room, he stops his movement and opts to just listen outside. he can learn to be content with the small opening of your door as long as he hears you play.

he leans his back to the wall, relishing in the piece as you come to an end. this forces him back to reality and realizes he needs to go should you come out of the room. he’s had a taste of your anger and rejection, he doesn’t need a spoonful again.

“you can come in.” a voice calls out.

he freezes, you know he’s there. he wonders if he should speak up or keep his mouth shut for a while and leave or come inside to you. he decided the former, so much for wanting to talk to her that he chickens out in the chance she’s given him.

“are you gonna come in or not?” you said getting annoyed with the lack of his reply.

fuck, fuck, fuck. how did you know? he’s sure he was silent when he made his way up here. did you have an extra set of senses he wasn’t aware of? you didn’t notice him the first time, what made you notice it now?

he’s still frozen on his feet, in a deep dilemma with what to do next. he keeps his eyes on the wall in front of him and doesn’t make a single sound.

“hey.” the voice calls out again.

he keeps quiet.

until something makes contact on his shoulder. a nudge. someone nudged him.

he looks back and sees you beside the door. in all your glory, your hand on the door knob slightly opening it for enough space for someone to pass through. he didn’t hear you walk up or the door creaking for entry. your eyes were on him, gone was the scrutiny and judgment but the annoyance was still there with a tinge of softness.

you look beautiful.

you look..nice, his breath hitches on his throat as his words are unable to leave. you stare at him in confusion so he walks in, with no words to reply at you.

as he enters he sees your bedroom, some clutter on the floor he notices your violin perched on the chair and some books scattered on the ground. he looks back and sees you standing there, motionless and silent.

he waits for you to say something before he does something. you leisurely make your way towards him and he stands to the side to make way for you. you don’t say anything as you kneel down into the floor and start opening the books with the lamplight on the side table illuminating luminescence for light reading.

“you can sit down.”

keith contemplates where to sit down. on the floor with you? on your bed? or on that loveseat beside the side table. keith decides to sit down next to you, just to be polite.

silence fills the air into your room. none of you speak a word, too nervous or too awkward to converse. keith realizes that this is the third time the both of you were alone and the second time you sought his company.

he assumes that his presence doesn’t agitate you, at least right now. right now, he’s sitting on the floor, his knees pressed up to his chest and his drink abandoned beside him.

you flip through the books,your back in front of him as you knelt. he notices that they were fictional books. mostly filled with fantasy as he observes the whimsical glossy covers full of intricate symbolism of medieval and magical content. bright tabs are trapped between the pages, you’ve read them before, he realizes. he doesn’t see any books that he’s read before, all unfamiliar to him maybe he can introduce you to a few jane eyre books if you haven’t read them yet.

he perceives that you know his eyes are on you. you look back at him and stare at him. devoid of emotion but there was softness seen in it, keith fiddles with the button of his shirt, nervous under your gaze. you observe this and return your attention to the books.

“keith.” you call out to him.

“..yeah?”

“i wanted..i wanted to apologize. for what i said the other day.” you apologize to him.

keith is..a bit stunned. he expected you to just shove and forget it ever happened considering it had happened a few months ago. your apology has taken too long to arrive, making him assume it would never arrive yet it has just appeared, it’s in your lowly illuminated room and won’t face him.

“it’s okay.” he replies, not adding much to it. what was there to say? you were rude to him that day, for someone to randomly accuse you of something you didn’t do.

“no, it’s not.” you retort, suddenly facing him.

“honestly, it’s okay. i don’t mind.” he assures you. it kinda hurts, he has time to thank for that since it doesn’t ache as much.

“well, you should mind.” you whisper to him as you scoot your way towards him. keith moves over to make space for you on the floor.

holy shit. you’re moving close to him. to him.

the both of you stay silent for a while. your backs pressed on the footboard of your bed. your legs crossed and his remaining pressed to his chest. silence is good. right now it is, the silent aftermath of your apology was like serenity after the storm.

“who’s irene?” keith asks out of nowhere.

your head snaps at him and your face turns unpleasant, like he said the spell to break the curse. forcing you to tear apart your walls and reveal yourself, fuck maybe he did that too early. if you didn’t hate him then maybe you surely do right now.

the burst of anger never comes. you shakily take a breath and ask him.

“you..really don’t know her? irene?” you question your voice slowly getting lower. he’s not sure if he’s seeing this correctly but he can see your eyes slowly tearing up. a sheen of glossiness fills your eye. this was much worse.

you were crying. crying, because of him.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

“i don’t.” he responds honestly, he doesn’t know how to comfort you other than offering you the truth. touching you was certainly out of the table, you look at the floor and toy with the edges of the skirt of your dress.

“fuck it. i really hope you’re telling the truth.” you mutter, “irene was…a friend. we used to play in the same orchestra together, until there was this new first chair position for the theater nearby the campus,” you add.

“i was going to audition for it. so i practiced, i put it a lot of blood,sweat and tears for this piece of..fucking wood. only for it to be botched, by her.” you explain anger and annoyance oozing your tone.

“you wanna know the worst part about that? there was this guy i liked and he’d insist on watching me play and i found it so sweet. i told him all about the audition and everything i was going to do…and he fucking told her.” you ramble, “turns out they were fucking each other, before i found out he stalled me on the day of the audition and the moment i arrived, she was playing. same fucking piece, on my fucking time.”

“i’m sorry. you don’t deserve that.”

“it’s not an excuse for my actions that day but it’s a reason why i’m..wary of everyone around me. especially people who loom on the second floor watching me play. it’s..just that..” you exhale, “ever since that happened i feel angry with everyone, that i didn’t see that coming, that i couldn’t prevent it.” you expound to him.

“i get it, but there’s no way you could’ve” he reassures, you frown at him and scoff “i mean, they had it out for you too.” he adds to his defense.

“it doesn’t matter, i shouldve watched out for myself. there were signs and i was too fucking stupid and lovesick to see it.” you retort, “and i feel more fucking dumb because i look insane when i think someone’s after me, and i just can’t help it because i don’t feel..safe.”

“i understand but it’s not your fault. sometimes people want to bring down great people.” keith does. he had invaded your private space and laughed at your reaction in the library, his invasion and amusement was probably like a flash of the past to your eyes.

the most precious thing to you was ruined by jealous assholes, something that should make you feel free and strong has turned you vulnerable.

“i understand the entire thing but..don’t you think it’s unlikely to happen again?” he ponders to you. the next thing almost breaks him apart.

you smile at him for the first time and it’s the saddest thing ever.

your smile doesn’t reach your ears, it’s sad and remorseful before you deliver the blow.

“it happened more than once.” you quietly say to him.

keith can’t believe his eyes sometimes.

you’re in his apartment for a new year’s day party.

the both of you seemed to have found the floor with his arm searching under the couch for his wallet that got kicked in during the party while you were sweeping the diverse color of confetti splayed on the floor.

he can’t believe that you’re here with him. not that the help is unappreciated but he hadn’t expected you to silently volunteer to come and stay over to help clean up.

he’d invited you, your brother and james to his little party. he was quite ecstatic when he saw you come through the door along with some fancy wine that your brother insisted “bought together” which you rolled your eyes at.

you friendship is better than ever. there was a visible development that he expected that might’ve happened in years but occurred in weeks. in the days after your brother’s christmas party, you two have shared your interest for books and he had attended a few of your shows nearby. sometimes when he came over at your brother’s house you two would talk about stuff…mostly about other people with a few sneaks of memories from the past.

although you were still quiet with him, it wasn’t out of disinterest but simply because you’re quiet and you have nothing to say to him. if you did have something to say you never keep it shut. that was nice and keith actually feels like the both of you are getting somewhere ever since you confessed your unpleasant past to him.

after dinner and some words exchanged while hours passed by, everyone found themselves searching for their which keith did not hold up against them. however when he thought everyone had left, he heard a clink of bottles on the floor in the living room and as he went to check it, he saw you quietly cleaning up the mess.

he called out to you saying that you should go home and he’s got the entire mess covered but you simply ignored him as his words fell on deaf ears.

keith finally feels the familiar leather of his wallet then pulls his arm out of the couch and sighs then reaches for the half finished wine on the coffee table. he calls out to you and urges you to come over.

the both of you are exhausted and should probably rest. he can clean all of this up tomorrow.

you look back at him and hesitate, you don’t look at him like before anymore. there was no annoyance and anger, just softness. it was still devoid of emotion, he thinks that you’re not sure how to behave yourself around him with the fact that first, he wasn’t family and second he’s not an opponent of yours.

to you, he’s just keith.

keith, the guy who likes to watch you play and applauds you every time you finish playing. keith who's been to one of your shows and sometimes treats you to an ice cream session after the event then sometimes shares his favorite parts during the event. keith, the dude who lets your borrow his stash of books and lets your share your thoughts on them for hours and hours. you share to him the parts of the story you liked and your criticisms from the plot.

keith, the guy who has a crush on you.

but you don’t know that, at least he hopes you don’t.

you walk over to him and plop yourself on the floor, next to him. he takes a chug of the wine from the bottle before passing it over to you. you reluctantly take it from him and take a drink, he wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before setting it down on his lap.

“did you like the party?” he inquires.

“yeah, the food was nice. did you make it all by yourself?” you reply full of curiosity.

“i had a few friends help me over.”

“wise.”

silence occupied them again. a comfortable kind of silence though, the type that didn’t make him feel like he’d said or done something wrong. the time both of you spent together had warped the dynamics of your friendship. you weren’t judging him when you were silent just unsure with what to do, something he picked up along the way.

“how did your date go the other day?” you ask.

your talks together began with your simple interests to the current agendas shared from both ends, he can’t remember if he had told you about it or if you overheard from your brother.

“i don’t think i remember telling you about that.” he chuckles at your question.

“you didn’t, i overheard it from him.” you answer with no remorse.

“overheard? eavesdropping on me aren’t you?” he teases, you immediately scoff and retort in your defense,

“he has a big mouth that keeps chattering day and night. i bet our neighbors know about your date too.” you retort with a little joke at the end. he laughs at this and you chuckle with him.

“well shit. i don’t need your entire neighborhood knowing i’m a loser.” he jokes.

“she shouldn’t have done that.” you frown at his jest and comment when your laughter dies down. keith looks at you from that disclosure and disappointment emerges into his head again.

“well..some things just don’t work out and that’s okay.” he shakes off the dismay from his failed date.

“i mean she could’ve at least informed you she wasn’t going to show up.” you reply ignoring his words,

“why do you sound more angry than i am? what in the world did she ever do to you?” he teases again in false wonder. you scoff at this and face him, clasping his arm with a tight grip.

“you’re a good person, keith.” you state.

“sure, i didn’t see it right away but-that doesn’t matter, anyways what i’m trying to say is that, you’re always too eager to see the good in people. too forgiving that you ignore your own grievances. that’s not okay.” you whisper looking into his eyes.

“i think that eagerness led you here.”

“i know and i’m thankful for that. i’m glad that you’re my friend, i’m glad you gave me a second chance but forgiveness is a two way street. i earned your forgiveness because i confessed my mistake and apologized. you don’t even wait for an apology before you hand out forgiveness!” you exclaim. keith tries to speak but you interrupt him.

“i know you probably think it’s naive and stupid.” he jokes and looks away, not wanting to delve into the topic of conversation.

“i never said that.” you gasp slightly in mortification, you grasp his jaw and force his gaze back to you.

“i know that we should be kind and that holding on to anger doesn’t lead anywhere good but you don’t deserve that. you deserve so much better and things sweeter than life.”

he already has something sweeter than life.

you.

you make every pleasure in life look dull the moment he sees you enter his sight.

he knows you’ll never be his, he can never have you because you’ll never have him. it’s okay, he’ll learn to be okay.

“yes ma’am.. i will listen to that.” he smiles,

you smile at him and it’s so sweet, he wants to hold you and twirl your hair. he wants to be with at all times, so he can see you and watch you play. he wants to know every minute detail about you. he’s just filled with this yearning to love you. he hoped that his affection might dwindle down as soon the platonic structure of friendship hit him on the face.

but the deeper your friendship delved into the more he fell for you. he always said to himself and to others that what he felt for you was just a fleeting moment, he knows he shouldn’t feel anything like this because he knows that you won’t reciprocate his feelings. he knows that he’ll just get hurt and he should stop it at once.

but how? how could he have known?

how could he prevent it when stars glimmered in your eyes as if they were jewels glimmering in the sky? how can he call it fleeting when he fell for you the moment he saw you in the theater?

he exhales and smiles at you.

and shoves his feelings back down.

and tried to forget how his heart beats for you.

you scoot closer to him than you already are, his breath hitches in apprehension with how near you are to him. he takes you in all your glory, he can smell the sweet scent that you carry that used to intimidate him but now brought comfort and safety to him.

you smell like home.

he’s afraid you might hear the heartbeat in his chest that is pumping so loud now that it’s source comes closer and closer to him, like a moth to a flame he’ll burn out if you come any closer to the warmth of your body.

he’s afraid that if you see his fidgeting and breathlessness you might catch up on him and realize he’s in love with you.

he can never let you know that.

not when he sees how far your relationship has developed, not when you’ve welcomed him into your world, not when you’ve shared some of your secrets with him.

not when you make feel complete when you’re within his reach.

he can’t afford to lose all of that in a single stroke of words. he can never confess to you because he doesn’t know how you’ll take it, but he can only assume the worst. he can only assume that you’ll refuse him.

a popular and encouraging saying that’s often associated in his situation “the worst thing she could say is no.” is incorrect. the worst thing you could say is to turn him away and break your friendship. you would leave his life and he would have to go back living it without you. how can he do that?

and the worst part? he’s not even sure you’d even bother to say all that. he’s half sure you would abandon him with no message or explanation but your silence would speak enough more than those four words could ever say.

you don’t want him.

he can’t go back to that, your tranquility used to bring him anxiety but as time progressed it brought him solace and he felt like he could be himself with you, his stuttering and apprehensiveness had disappeared and you greeted it with eagerness.

he’ll keep it down for you. he’ll shut his mouth if you ever fall in love with someone and he loses his chance with you, he’ll keep quiet because it means having you. the best thing he ever gave you was making you feel safe around him. he can never afford to let the opposite happen in the future.

because that means staying in your life and yours in his. it means keeping you close and that’ll keep him happy enough.

it has to.

he feels something on his lap, more like someone. a tingling sensation wrangling itself to his hands, he looks down and sees a glint of jewel shining back at him. he realizes it’s your adorned hand, he looks back up at you where you’ve laid your head on his shoulder.

you feel his gaze on you, you always do and look back at him in curiosity expecting him to say something. keith doesn’t know what to say, he’s afraid that he might spill his heart out to you with the recent train of thoughts his mind has occupied, so he smiles at you.

you smile in return and he wishes he could he could see that forever.

his hand is tangled with yours as he lays his head back on you.

a life with you is all he wants.

he wants to stay like this with you forever, just the both of you indulging in each other’s company and living life with no abandon.

keith watches you.

you squeeze his hand three times to make sure he’s alright.

he squeezes it back in return.

“happy new year’s keith.” you mutter to him and pull your head back under him as he looks at you. you bring yourself to him and softly press a kiss on his cheek, with your hand on his jaw.

keith does his best to hide his surprise as he feels happiness burst inside him. you put your head back to its previous stance along with your hands. keith does the same.

this is okay. this is perfect.

love isn’t always butterflies and grand gestures with happy endings but sometimes love can be wine drunk, holding each other’s hands and splayed on the floor next to confetti.

and pain.

there’s still love even if it’s gut wrenching pain.

author’s note: this took so long i’m so sorry. i had a keith brainrot before my exam and it had to go because i need to pass. (which paid off : D ) i couldn’t choose a happy or sad ending because..i want to. jk i can’t envision a smooth sailing path for keith and the reader because it really needs to take some time and CONFESS. they don’t know how to act on that because they’re careful around each other with the rough start they began with. or maybe because i just wanted to write about a pining keith and an oblivious reader that doesn’t know how to manage their feelings. i am a staunch believer of finding ur lover in a friend soo anyways thank you for reading and feel free to like and reblog!

[multifamdomfan]

Why Does Love Hurt So Much? Pt. 2

@ivysayssup

Alexander Hamilton x reader(x John Laurens)

The good news is the nurses healed the wound and there was nothing left there but a scar but the bad news is that Dad is sending me back home. Before I left I told the truth about who I really am to Hercules, Lafayette, and John. They understood why I lied about my name and gender but was glad that I was honest about everything else. I couldn't bring myself to see Alex again, I didn't know what I would say or what his reaction would be. When I got home I studied law and eventually became a lawyer. I got harassed because it was uncommon for women to be anything other than a housewife but that just gave me the motivation to work harder.

A good thing that came out of it though is that the Schuyler sisters heard of me and wanted to meet me which led to great friendships. They invited me to the Winters Ball. When I arrived wearing my nicest dress I made small talk with the sisters before we all went out separate ways and I saw the one person I never thought that I'd see again, Alexander Hamilton. I was going to hide from him but it was too late, he already saw me. He walked towards me with an out stretched hand and said "May I have this dance?" It completely took me by surprise, did he not recognize me? Did he forget about me or did he not care?

My cheeks warmed and I nodded stiffly before taking his hand and we started to dance. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I was terrified. "So 'James', what is your real name?"

"(y/n). I want you to know that besides my name and gender I never lied to you. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner but I couldn't risk getting caught." I responded looking down in shame.

"I'm not going to lie, I was hurt when I found out but I understand why you did what you did." I looked up and saw that he looked sincere. And we shared a smile, not seeing that John Laurens was watching us across the room with sad eyes before leaving the ball.

Eventually Alexander and I got together and then got married. It started off wonderful, it seemed almost magical but it didn't last long. He was always working and never made any effort whatsoever into our marriage. Then he started going out late saying that he had to go to work. I saw all the signs but I ignored it so I could keep him because I love him. I'm grateful for my best friend, John Laurens. He's always been there with me through it all. Especially when we saw the Reynolds Pamphlet.

We were going on a stroll before Thomas Jefferson handed me and John the piece of paper that would change our lives forever. "I'm going to kill him." I heard him mutter as we read it. I stood there motionless. It's not true, it couldn't be. But everything made sense with his behavior. Tears sprung in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)." He said while he hugged me tightly. When we broke away he said "Come on, you're going to stay with me." I nodded staring at the ground before we left to collect my things.

I didn't say a word to Alex when I got home and packed my things. I heard John yelling at Alexander through the walls, John really is a good friend. We left and I was going to file divorce papers and get half of everything but right now I just need my friend and sleep.

A year later I got over Alex and I developed feelings for John. I got my own place and moved out of John's place but visited often. We were talking about anything and everything but I was half asleep with my head leaning on his shoulder and I whispered "I love you." Before I passed out.

The next morning I woke up on John's bed but he wasn't there. I walked to the living room where he was asleep on the couch. I sat down next to him and brushed a few stray hairs out of his face causing him to stir and wake up. "Good morning." I told him in a soft voice.

"Good morning." He responded with his voice groggy from sleep. He then seemed to remember something and asked "Did you mean what you said yesterday? About you loving me?"

I completely forgot about that. I looked down blushing and responded with a quiet "Yes." Before I knew it he kissed me with so much passion that it contrasted with his innocent persona.

A couple years later John and I got happily married. John and I were drinking champagne when I overheard Hercules tell Alex "You need to let her go." So I guess that He was pinning on me but I deserve better than Alexander. I'm with John now, I love him and he loves me. John is the best thing that ever happened to me and treats me right.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

soft hopelesslydevoted fic with cuddles perchance 👉👈

Yes. Yes. Yes. Absolutely. I challenged myself to see if I could write this scene without much dialogue to focus purely on the cuddling. I kind of cheated, because there's unspoken thought dialogue, but still.

(Also, sorry this isn't past tense, I'm getting back into writing present tense for some reason and I hope that's okay!)

-⚜- Completely -⚜-

TW: mention of past drug use and sobriety, suggestive themes

Image Sources: Left | Right | Lace | Bow

The door is locked. The window is open, with the soft, cool breeze sending the curtains dancing. The antique phonograph in the corner is bubbling out Frank Sinatra. “Allonge-toi ici avec moi. [Lay here with me.]” They do not speak again for an hour.

That hour belongs to Vincent, and so does the one after that. The days belong to him, full of standing at attention, walking, moving, killing, eating, breathing for his sake. So do the nights…all things belong to him. The kingdom of the High Table belongs to him. The meaning of the word “love” belongs to him. And Chidi belongs to him.

But such times as these are even more completely Vincent's than all others. Not just owned by him, but consumed by him, swallowed in him, without the smallest distraction. Chidi lays his whole weight over Vincent like a weighted blanket and Vincent’s arms go around his back, pulling him as close as possible. He is enfolded on every side. The canopy bed arches upwards around them, and Chidi reaches to pull the comforter over them both and form a warm, protective cave. In that warmth, Vincent snuggles into his neck and squeezes around his torso, and Chidi squeezes back. A tight, expressive hug that makes Vincent bite his lip with sheer affection. It’s easy to imagine that it would be frightening to be in Vincent’s clutches, at his seemingly limited mercy. But with Chidi, Vincent allows himself to be infinitely merciful, and Chidi never feels more safe than when his master has him completely.

By the way Vincent is breathing, long and slow, Chidi knows he feels safe too. Good. He needs it.

Vincent wore himself out, so today is a rest day, with no obligations of any kind. It’s been a whole week of being on his feet, networking, closing deals, chasing after the regional managers. He used to “partake” in order to push through it. But he’s been clean for a while now, and it makes him softer, it lets the demands of his body show through, it means he gets tired like any other human being. And Chidi makes sure he doesn’t have to push through any of that, because he deserves to rest. He’s doing so well with sobriety…Chidi thinks of that and kisses the tip of his nose.

Vincent’s pretty mouth spreads into a pretty, dimpled smile and Chidi can’t help kissing the dimples too, one by one. Devour me with that mouth, mon ange…Chidi doesn’t say it, doesn’t break the silence, but it’s conveyed nonetheless. The sweetness overwhelms Vincent and he blushes deeply, without even opening his eyes. He turns his head to catch Chidi’s lips with his own, before they can escape.

They’ll make love many times today, but this kiss is not about simple lust, even when Vincent’s tongue caresses his lips and pushes between his teeth. It’s about joining their bodies inside and out, so that there is no barrier between them. They are open to one another, open to rest and just be.

When they pull away, Vincent’s eyes open too. And this does not just mean that the lids are lifted. There is a willingness to meet Chidi’s gaze. He is not looking through that glassy veil of dissociation that so often separates them, he is looking right at Chidi, seeing him and allowing himself to be seen. I care for you, his eyes are saying. You’re very precious to me, and if anything came between us, I couldn’t take it. Please be gentle with me because of that. I’m so tired, and I need it so much.

And Chidi opens himself in kind, exposing his desperate, worshipful tenderness, his need to be commanded and cared for. It’s been a long week for him too. I live to serve you, to be gentle with you. You are my world, sir. Did I do things right? Did I please you, Vincent? In answer, Vincent’s hands rub along Chidi’s back, up to his neck and the base of his head, and then down again. He sighs contentedly. Yes. Vincent is happy with him.

Vincent is happy.

The world, then, is complete.

[krylng]

Practicing French

Pairing: Turn Washington’s Spies Lafayette x fem!reader

18th century (1700’s)

TW: Duolingo French, lots of French (pull up google translate now if you don’t know much french 😭)

Summary: Your “friend” Lafayette is teaching you some French. Little did you know, he was telling you things you didn’t know in French.

Word count: like 100-200–short n sweet <3

——————————————

“Je suis.” His accent was thick and serious.

You bit your lip as you thought and translated in your head. “Uh…I am?”

“Very good.” The corners of his mouth turned upwards. “Euh…Delighed in French.”

“Enchantè?” You sat criss crossed on the carpeted floor.

“Hmm…let me see you write it down.” He smiled and handed you a quill.

So then you wrote down, enchantè.

“Close, mon amour. Ils enchanté.” He wrote down enchanté and you immediately felt stupid. “Would you like to keep going?”

“Oui.” He smiled as the words flowed from your mouth perfectly.

“Je m’appelle.” He swallowed.

“My name is.” You said confidently. That was one of the only words you knew instantly.

“Great. Let’s move on.”

“Je t'aime.” He smiled sweetly as he looked into your eyes.

“Laf, you never taught me any of this, how am I supposed to figure that out-“ You rolled your eyes.

“Never mind, let’s move on. Je suis ça va trés bien. Et toi?” The words danced from his mouth, accent thick, with the perfect pronunciation.

“That’s a long sentence, I’m not sure I can do that.” You sighed, mad at your stupid self.

He took your soft hand in his. “Write it down if you need to, chérie.” He encouraged. You wrote down slowly, processing and translating each word at your own speed.

You wrote down the last word, and confidently said, “I am doing very well. And you?”

A smile spread across his handsome face. “Very good, chérie.”

“Or trés bien.” You smiled.

“Ou trés bien.” He repeated, slightly changing the sentence to ‘Ou’ instead of ‘or.’

You smacked your forehead. “How did I not think of that-“

“Chérie, tu as l'air si majestueuse et belle. Je pourrais t'embrasser tout de suite.” He smiled slyly.

”Lafayette…” She tilted her head to meet his gaze. His eyes widened as the thought of you knowing what he said crossed his mind.

“You know?”

“I do…only the first part. My mother used to say that to me in French.” You blushed. “She wasn’t fluent though.”

“Might as well repeat the whole thing in English.” He sighed. “The last sentence—I could kiss you right away.”

Desire and love filled your heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you closer and gently kissed you.

You hum against each other’s lips, his hand cupping your cheek and the other gripping you waist. He pulls away and smiles.

“Ma chérie, I’ve been waiting to do that for the longest time now.”

You leap towards him, wrapping your arms around his underarms and touching his back with your hands. He held your shoulder as he toppled over. After the small fall, he tightened the grip on you, and traced hearts on your back with his finger.

“Je t'aime.”

“I love you?” You translated. You didn’t know exactly, but you thought he was say something like that.

“I love you too.” She giggled and he held her tighter, not getting up from the floor.

[tobytheeggo]

Hello! I was directed here for fluff 😋 Any fluffy headcanons about Chidi and Marquis?

Fluffy headcanons :3

(HopelesslyDevoted edition 🍰🗡️)

Chidi doesn’t like sweets as much as the normal person, but if Vincent offers enough and keeps pushing, he’ll eat a piece of cake or two

Alluding back to my ‘Chidi doesn’t like dogs but he sure acts like one’ tangent - he does that thing dogs do where they rest their head on their persons stomach as they lay down

They’re both very clingy with each other, but Chidi’s extent can get very threatening, solely because he doesn’t like the thought of being replaced or taken advantage of

Vincent likes to give him little gifts (and even pay raises) just for the fun of it all

Vincent’s very touchy as a way to show affection, which ultimately leads to him clinging onto Chidi as they sleep; but sometimes he does move around a lot which barely gives Chidi any space

Whenever Vincent’s getting his suits tailored, he likes to bring Chidi along with him cause he’s kinda like a hype-man

+ They’ll pick out fabric colors and different styles together

They both have an item that reminds them of the other person, so if they’re away from each other, they’ll have that item to remember each other by <3

Sorry if these are bland, I usually come up with headcanons randomly in my head whenever I’m making up scenarios 😭

Also let’s ignore how these are mostly Chidi attributes, I’m not the Vincent enthusiast here so⁉️

[pretty-little-mind33]

Count Alexei Vronsky x fem!reader

Summary: You're forced into an arranged marriage.

Genre: fluff, angsty

Warnings: Alexei is kind of an asshole in the beginning, reader is from France, the daughter of a Marquis, and she is described as having hair that can be pinned up and curled (otherwise no descriptions), sexism of the time (very mild)

~ thank you anon! sorry this too forever (this was requested ages ago)!! ~

COUNT VRONSKY MASTERLIST

As you brush your hair in the mirror of your vanity, staring unemotionally at the girl staring back, your mother's words ring in your ear. "Love, beautiful love, can be learned, ma chérie (my love)," she'd promised, as her hand lay on your nervous knee, smoothing her thumbs over the crinkled skirt of your lavender dress, the fabric bunched up from hours of carriage riding. 

"I did not love your father when I met him. Not in the beginning." Your mother smiled and continued, "But, when it finally happened—and it will for you too—I could not imagine myself without him." 

And you did believe her. Up until you took your first step on Count Vronksy's estate, the sun hot and warm on your skin, you listened to your mother's proclamations of true love with attention and yearning. 

You still want to believe her even now.

Your future husband's lips had felt so foreign on your upper palm, the feeling more like a courtesy than something intimate. He hadn't said a word, minus the polite greetings that frankly don't count in those situations, as he stood beside his mother wearing an oddly vacant expression. The blue shine of his eyes mirrored an ocean you imagined losing yourself in, but one you couldn't yet reach. 

You suppose you should feel incredibly lucky that he didn't turn out to be some old, hideous, nobleman with crooked teeth and chapped lips. You certainly did feel lucky that the only reputation he had was player tendencies and fleeting infidelities—which your mother promised you could be dampened with time and care. 

"He will be a good husband to you, mon amour (my love). Give him time."

Your mother sounded so sure, but you didn't know how much time your heart could handle without breaking.

Across the house, Count Alexei Vronsky paces his bedchamber, his white chemise hung loosely over his shoulders as he practically tugs at his blond curls. His mind races with countless scenarios and possibilities as he plays the memory of meeting you on an endless loop. 

"Alexei," His mother, Countess Vronskaya, chastises as she sits on his bed, her lips pursed. "You are acting like a spoiled child. Sit down." 

Her youngest son shakes his head, his voice coming out strained. "I cannot do this, Mama," he says, meaning every word. "I do not know her. I cannot love someone I do not know!"

"Love?" Countess Vronskaya scoffs, staring at him with sharp eyes, "What on earth has put that silly word into your head? And don't tell me it was your little affair from a few months ago—oh, the shame—" she fans her lace fan faster and then shuts it and abruptly lays it onto her lap.

"Alexei, love does not exist. Responsibility, on the other hand, does. It is your responsibility to make up for your mistakes and this is the solution. Marriage. Besides," she fans herself again, "You can easily have Mistresses, I am not denying you that so please, stop this nonsense at once."

"I do not want any Mistresses!" Alexei exclaims, his frustration growing.

Countess Vronskaya stares at her son with an expression of annoyance and disbelief. "Then what, pray, do you want? To bring further scandal upon this family with your childish rebellion? You will marry this girl. It is not a request but an order."

Alexei drops to his bed, his head held pitifully in his hands as he calms his breathing. He pretends he's anywhere but here, his mind focusing on how the wind against his window sounds like waves crashing onto sand. 

One. Breath in.

Two. Breath out.

Three. Breath in.

"I understand, Mama," he whispers, knowing he has no choice in the matter. 

* * *

One. Breath in.

Two. Breath in.

Three. Breath in.

"Maman, it's too tight, I cannot breathe," you whimper as you press a palm on your stomach, feeling slightly light-headed as the maids tighten your corset and slip over your periwinkle dress, the silk sliding over your shoulder as one hangs delicately to the side. It's a simple dress, minus the puffs and ruffles. "Beauty is pain," your mother says, nodding her head as the maids continue to dress you up. 

They pin up your hair with a silver pin and wrap your neck in pearls, adding earrings to finish the look. "Charmante, ma chérie (Beautiful, my dear)," your mother admires as she stands and pushes a stray curl behind your ear.

"Il va t'adorer (He'll adore you)."

You focus on her promise as you walk down the grand staircase and enter the ballroom, which is illuminated by golden chandeliers and sparkling candles. The event looks lavish and it seems to you that Countess Vronskaya had invited all of Russian Society for the announcement of your marriage. Your stomach churns with nerves as you glance around the room. You don't know how to introduce yourself to the women who stare judgmentally from behind their fans. 

Your mother takes your arm and leads you to the center, where Count Vronsky stands beside his mother again, chatting ideally with some other aristocrats. Upon seeing your arrival, he turns and you hold out your hand, his lips brushing your skin in the same fleeting manner as it had earlier. 

"Good evening, Lady Y/l/n," he says, looking you over and you wonder if you look unpresentable from the way he's staring. His gaze then shifts to your mother. "Marquise Y/l/n."

You smile up at him. "Good evening, Count Vronsky," you say and then smile at his mother, "Countess—" You swallow your words when she sees your dress and her frown deepens. 

"What is this?" she asks with a hiss, her voice low. Alexei tenses from beside her. 

"I beg your pardon?" you whisper, eyes wide with confusion as your mother's frown deepens.

"Your dress. It isn't suitable for an occasion like this," Countess Vronskaya almost snarls, looking around the ballroom and then her eyes land on you again. "You look positively underdressed!" She sounds completely taken aback and almostdisgusted as she looks you up and down. You feel stupid and exposed, hearing her tell you this in front of your future husband. You don't dare look at him.

Your mother takes the fall. "I didn't know this wouldn't be suitable for this occasion, Countess Vronskaya. In France—" The Countess sends her a dirty look, clearly having no patience for any explanations.

Your mother exhales, "I assure you, Countess, the fault lies with me. I misjudged the attire. I apologize for my mistake," she says with a forced smile, pushing on your back to move you closer to Alexei—who still hasn't said a word. "Our children should have a dance, shouldn't they?" 

You look up at Alexei, your chest tightened as you make eye contact. Countess Vronskaya doesn't seem pleased but she nods and Alexei holds out his arm, his lips still shut as he stares in front of him.

You hesitate but take his arm as he leads you onto the dance floor and begins the dance, his hand around your waist. You try to remember the moves and once you're finally comfortable, the dance is suddenly over.

"I–" 

Alexei interrupts you with yet another chaste kiss to your hand and then he spins around, his posture as composed as it always is. He excuses himself and walks to make conversation with other guests, leaving you all alone. 

You stare at him, blinking back tears. How are you supposed to love him if he won't even talk to you? You feel hopeless as you stand there, feeling stupid and lonely in your dress.

So lonely. 

* * *

Alexei's knee bounces impatiently as he waits. You're over thirty minutes late. None of your maids have seen you and neither has your mother. His mind flashes back to last night; your pretty smile, the sound of your voice and the curls in your hair—the ones that had gotten slightly messy with the constant movement of your head. He feels a tightness in his chest. 

Where are you?

The thunder cracks outside, the rain pouring against the window of the parlor. It's a dreadful day and it only creates a pit in his stomach at your disappearance. Something is wrong.

"Should I fetch your mother?" One of the maids asks timidly when, ten minutes later, you still haven't shown up. Alexei takes a breath and shakes his head, he stands and holds his head in one hand. 

"No need, it's fine, I'll—" 

He's interrupted by the sound of a familiar neigh-ing outside the window. His head snaps around and his eyes widen. "Frou-Frou?!" he gasps, seeing his horse out in the rain. His eyes widen even more when he sees familiar hair blowing messily in the wind and rain, covered only by a flimsy cloak.

He stands and runs outside, ignoring the calls from the confused maid. All he can think of is Frou-Frou and you. Frou-Frou doesn't do well with strangers and Alexei knows that the slightest jerky movement could startle him and he could unintentionally hurt you. You. Why would you steal his horse? In a thunderstorm no less? 

Are you running away?

"Y/n!" he screams into the yard. You're approaching the fence but Frou-Frou's never ridden outside of the manor without him. Alexei breaks into a run and curses when Frou-Frou makes a jerky movement, kicking you from his back as you scream. The rain is blurring Alexei's vision now as his white shirt becomes soaked. His hair is sticking to his forehead as mud from the grass sticks to his boots. You've fallen into the mud and grass, your skirt heavy under the extra weight of the rain.

Seeing him run up, you try to stand to run but the mud slows you down and you fall again. Frou-Frou panics from the rain and the situation and he runs off. "Damnit," Alexei curses, hesitating. He knows Frou-Frou isn't going to leave the grounds without him, so he turns and grabs you under your armpits. "What is wrong with you?!" he hisses as thunder cracks again. You kick your feet, mud splattering his trousers and Alexei's chest tightens when he sees the tears in your eyes. 

"Don't touch me!" you hiss, hitting him as you try to stand in the mud. 

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, pulling you upright. "Were you attempting to flee?"

"Why should it concern you?" you spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

"Because you are my betrothed!"

"And you do not love me," you hiss. Your heart is thumping and you hate how pretty he looks, wet and disheveled. You hate how your heart reacts to him in ways you're sure his doesn't when he looks at you.

Alexei groans, his head already hurting from this entire situation. He just holds you tighter. "You are correct—I do not know you well enough to claim such feelings for you. But I do not wish to see you harmed, running recklessly into a storm! My God, you already drive me mad! How am I supposed to tame you?" 

He sighs, his voice drifting when he realizes he's said the wrong thing as your expression twists into one of pure anger. You hit him with your palm, mud flying into his hair. 

"Tame me? Is that how you see me?"

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like that," he tries to explain, shielding himself as he keeps his hold on you. You're so different from when he'd met you yesterday when you'd been on your best behavior— he groans when you pull away, only to slip and fall.   

You shriek when he falls over you, the rain still pouring on you both. It's almost comedic now, your dress and his chemise a mess of dirt, mud, and rainwater. "Lady Y/l/n, please," Alexei tries again, struggling to get you to listen to him. 

Once he's leaning over you, his knees digging in the dirt as he holds your hands beside your head, he whispers; "My darling, please, you misunderstand me." 

You're breathing heavily now, your gaze intense. 

"I do not love you, but that doesn't mean it has to be like this our whole lives," he whispers, not sounding quite like himself. He lifts one arm, finger gently tracing your cheek as he slides the mud away. "It does not mean I want to see you hurt, running off in a storm with my horse." 

You calm your breathing and when you move to sit up, he does the same and you both catch your breaths. The rain is soaking you both, the cold air chilling your skin, and you watch him. He doesn't look as distant anymore. His skin is smeared in mud and his blond hair is askew. You push some wet strands of hair away from your eyes, half wishing he would have just let you run away. 

As the storm begins to calm and the rain softens to a gentle drizzle, Alexei's breathing is calm.

"I did not mean to frighten you," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "I just—I feel so out of place. As if I don't belong here. As if I don't belong with you in your world."

His expression flickers, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability he's been keeping hidden beneath his polished exterior. "Do you think I don't feel the same?" he asks quietly, his voice raw. "I have spent my life pretending to be the man everyone expects me to be. I have never been what anyone truly needs. I am not fit to be a good husband."

The honesty in his words sends a sharp hurt through your chest. "Then why chase after me?" you ask, your voice shaky. "Why not let me leave if you feel the same way?"

Alexei hesitates, then with a deep breath, he moves a little closer, his eyes searching yours. "Because," he begins, "when I saw you out here, stubborn and fearless in this storm, I realized something. You might be the only person brave enough to truly see me. And if I let you leave, then I would regret it until the day I die."

The rain has nearly stopped now, the storm's fury replaced by a stillness that feels almost unreal. You're unsure what to say, your chest tightening with the weight of his confession. For a moment, neither of you moves. The distance between you feels both vast and insignificant, the air thick with something that will probably remain unnamed.

Then, almost tentatively, Alexei leans in, the lips that had barely let themselves brush your hand, now kiss your forehead. You inhale.

"We can figure this out," he murmurs against your skin. "Together. Please do not run anymore. I can do better, for you."

You close your eyes, the weight of his words settling in your heart as you take them in. A moment passes and then you force a small smile, leaning into him as you nod.

"Okay. Let's go find Frou-Frou then," you whisper, earning a smile from Alexei. Your smile widens a little. Maybe your mother was right—maybe love could be learned. And perhaps, just perhaps, it could start here.

[cochineal-leviat]

Portrait of Marquis Fluff, ARN 17-9

A painting I did for the Midnight Soirée way back when I uploaded the first chapter of the fic in October. My rendering has gotten a lot better since then. I like the messiness of it. I am getting better at appreciating old art.

The "I had to do it to them" pose was entirely unintentional. It's kinda funny, though, because I only realised this when I was almost done with it.

If you are curious about the context of this, please go check out Midnight Soirée.

(Don't be afraid to ask questions about this AU. I am all too happy to answer them (*^▽^*))

[ameliesopp]

Hey I really love your marquis fanfics 🖤🖤

Was wondering if you could do one with a chubby/curvy reader

I feel like he’d like curvy and chubby women since you see them a lot in like renaissance and paintings from other eras

Thanks so much 🖤🖤🦇

Hey, thanks for the request! I I hope you like it, even though it’s a little short. I’m kind of in a creative slump 🫠 Anyway, enjoy🫶

-

My Venus

Marquis de Gramont x fem!chubby!reader

“Wow. You look stunning”, you hear Vincent’s voice behind you. You’re standing in front of the tall, gold-framed mirror in your shared bedroom, trying on new underwear, and smile softly as you turn around to face him.

“Really? I wasn’t sure if I like it.”

“Why wouldn’t you? It suits you so well”, he says a little surprised as he comes up to you to cup your face and kiss you on the forehead.

Instead of giving a response you pinch a bit of your belly fat, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. Vincent gently tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “That old story again? Do you really think that matters? In any way? Do you think I would have asked you out if I didn’t think you were the most beautiful woman I have ever seen? You know I don’t settle. I always have the best of everything, so that has to apply to you, too.”

You bite your lip as you give him a teary-eyed smile. “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I just don’t see myself that way.”

He stops to think for a second, then he takes your hand.

“Come on. I wanna show you something.”

“Vincent - I’m not wearing clothes”, you giggle as he drags you out of the bedroom.

“And? Show off those beautiful curves of yours!”, he just says joyfully as he pulls you with him towards his favorite room in your shared house: the art room.

“Look. Look at that and tell me what you see”, he says as he points at a statue in the corner. You haven’t seen that before and frown slightly. He keeps buying new art all the time, but usually he can’t wait to show you.

“A…woman?”, you propose, not sure what he’s expecting to hear.

“And she’s what?”

You’re slowly starting to realize what he’s trying to say and your eyes are starting to well up again.

“Chubby”, you say slowly.

“Exactly. You know who that is?”

“No…”

“Venus. That’s Venus. The goddess of love and beauty. And you know why I got her? Because she reminded me of you.”

You sniffle, a tear rolling down your cheek. Vincent wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“That’s who you look like”, he tells you. “You’re a goddess, chérie, and I need you to know that. You are beautiful. In every way. You look like a goddamn renaissance painting. I could look at you for hours. Your body is a work of art and it kills me that you don’t see that. That you don’t see what I see.”

He chuckles lowly as his hands wander up your waist. “And those boobs are just the bonus.”

You giggle, still sniffling, and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around him.

“Thank you”, you say softly. “I needed that today.”

“Always. And every time you feel insecure, I want you to come in here, look at that statue, and remember who you are. My beautiful, beautiful wife. My Venus”, he says, gently caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much”, you say.

“I love you, too.”

“So you think I should keep the set?”, you ask, nodding down at the underwear.

“Absolutely. But right now, I think you should take it off. Because I want you baaaadly”, he mumbles against your cheek and you blush as you giggle again.

“Well, good thing I want you, too.”

[harleyqueen24]

We were just kids

Vincent de Gramont x Female Reader

Warning: Fluff, too many cute things.

WORD COUNT : 1.3k words

Summary: You meet Vincent during a picnic organise by your families, during your birthday. This is your first meet and your parents have something which very important to tell you.

Notes: Just, this is my first story in English. So be understandable if there are spelling errors. English is not my principal language. If you want a French version, tell me.

Special thanks to @murasakispace who helped me.

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

It was a sunshine day. The De Gramont family organised a picnic in the garden of their Parisian mansion. Various families were invited, along with your family. The tables were decorated with many cakes and sweets. A little girl tried to take a piece of cheesecake, but was unsuccessful. Her big eyes looked enviously at this piece of cake, and she stood on tiptoe. At the moment, you were wearing in beautiful blue dress and headband. A hand came to stop you and carried you to another table. You let slip several childish complaints, but your mother didn't care.

She gently pushed you in front of the De Gramont family and their son, Vincent. The little boy was dressed in a blue three-piece suit and his hair was neatly styled. Your father came over to the Vincent's father and shook his hand.

"Good afternoon, it’s been a long time, mon ami."

"Bonjour, how are you since the last time?"

They exchanged jokes for a few minutes. And then your father's hand came to you.

"Do you remember about my daughter? She is seven years old today."

"Of course! How could I forget her?" he bent down to you. "How is la petite princesse? You are very pretty today!" You replied with a big smile and nodded your head.

"I'm fine. Thank you for looking after me."

He stood up, surprised.

"And she is polite! What more could we ask for?" he put his hand on your head and strocked you kindness. "You're a good and smart girl."

You laughed and looked at him with sparkling eyes. It was your birthday and everyone said that you were beautiful, kind, smart and funny. Everything that you loved. The little boy came in front of you, pushed by his mother.

"I don't think that you remember my son. His name is Vincent, he was four years old the last time that you two met."

You observed the handsome boy, he had the face of an angel face: green eyes and blond hair. This face was familiar, but very blurred in your mind. You were one year old, so it was impossible for you to remember him. He reached out to you.

"Bonjour, Y/N. Nice to meet you."

You looked at his hand, then took it with a big smile on your face.

"Nice to meet you too, Vincent."

He blushed a little and didn't know how and what answer. Your parents pushed you to the playground, where other boys and girls were enjoying themselves. You saw the swing and ran in its direction. Vincent slowly followed you.

"Do you like it?" he asked you.

"Yes!" You tried to ride on the board, but without success. So, you turned to Vincent with sad eyes. "Please, help me! I'm so small!"

"OK, but just for this once." he sighed.

He caught you by your hips and lifted you up to sit on the swing. A boy, older than you, arrived. When you saw him, your face lit up and a word came out of your mouth: "Brother!" At that moment, you jumped onto the swing and ran into his arms. Vincent sighed, again. He had the feeling he'd have to get back on the swing again. But, you didn't care, because your brother was there. The one and only man that you loved. "You could finally come!"

"Yes, mon petit lapin. How could I have missed your birthday?"

He kissed you on your cheek and you took his hand.

"Follow me! I want to play on the swing!"

"OK, Y/N. Anything for my princess."

Your brother was very kind and helped you with eveything. He pushed you until you felt you could fly. Although your joy was short-lived. Your mother called him, and he had to leave you. You were sad, and when Vincent came to play with you, you just would cry. The little boy was embarrassed and he had no idea how to calm you down. So, he put his hand on your head. You stopped crying almost immediately.

"It's okay, now? You're not sad anymore?" he asked you. Your answer was just a nod. A small smile appeared on his face. "Do you know how to speak? Or, shall I teach you?" Was he making fun of you? You hated it.

"Of course! I'm a big girl! I'm seven years old today!"

"Wow! You're so big!" He had this smile. That stupid and arrogant smile. He irritated you. "I'm sorry, princesse, but I'm older than you. So, I look more like a big boy than you."

"Oh. And, how old are you, Mr Oldest?" you answered with a little smirk. He stared at you, amused. You were the first to stand up to him.

"Ten," he answered. Your eyes widened. It was a shock for you. "What's that look on your face? Why are you shocked?" You laughed, amused at his question. "Why are you laughing at me?" he asked you angrily.

"I'm sorry, but, you look like an eight-year-old boy." you replied. And BAM! His ego was affected. He didn't like it. No, he hated this expression on your face and your high and mocking voice. If he could, he’d beat you in front of everyone. Then everyone would be in charge of this place. But, his mother’s voice brought him back to himself. She also called you, then you came and Vincent too.

"Children, we have something very important to tell you." It doesn’t bode well for such a sentence and you knew. Vincent's mother hesitated and gazed at her husband. He sighed and glanced at your father. Your mother also looked at him. So, it’s up to him to announce the news. He bent down to you.

"Children, we’ve talked a lot…. We’ve agreed on one thing." You didn't know what he was saying to you. Although, he mad you afraid to talk like that. He looked at you and said something to you. "My daughter, mon petit coeur, I think you're going to hate me. But... I have to do this. Understand me, please."

"What's going on, Dad?"you asked him, worried.

"It doesn't matter, but... I'm so sorry for you." You looked at him without understanding. He turned to your playmate, putting a hand on his shoulder and another on yours.

"Y/N, let me introduce Vincent... Your fiancé."

Fiancé? What? You didn't understand. "What does that mean?"

"Vincent and you are going to get married."

You fixed at your father, then at Vincent, then back at your father again. "No! I'm getting married big brother!" Your father smiled.

"You know that's impossible. You can't."

"But, he promised me!"

"Y/N, I'm telling you that it's impossible. Your future husband is Vincent."

Your tears began to fall and you cried. "No! I don't want! I don't want him!" Your father tried to calm you down and Vincent saw you annoyed. He would just play in his room. He was fed up with all the fussing and crying. Other people continued without giving you any thought.

Your father peeped at Vincent's father. "Maybe we should wait a little while before we clarify. They are too young to know if it suits them or not."

"That's a good idea. We'll wait. But, I want them to continue to meet."

"It's not a problem. Y/N will come here after school and do homework with Vincent." You stared at your father, surprised. Then, you turned your head to Vincent. He had the same reaction as you. And, you knew that your relationship would never be the same again.

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

Translate French-English :

mon ami : my friend

Bonjour : Good afternoon/Hello

la petite princesse : the little princess

mon petit lapin : my bunny

mon petit coeur : my little sweetheart

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

As love and its Decisive Pain

Main Masterlist

I had some thoughts and had to write them down, so here we are.

Title inspo

Contains: Fluff, loving husband Ray, impact play with a flogger, bondage, smut (fingering, sex toys, P in V) aftercare. Not beta read.

2.1K words

Ray goes shopping

The narrow, cobbled stone street was one of Ray's favourites. The area, which was once a red light district back when the Thames was filthy and a loaf of bread cost a few cents, still had an illicitness about it, like the pleasure and vice still lingered in the air. Up an old set of poorly lit steps and left through a glass door into a store with walls lined with goods that would make The Marquis De Sade blush.

"Mr Smith, good to see you again. I was just about to call you about a new piece." Mavis, the woman at the counter, ducked down and produced a long black flogger with the strangest handle he had ever seen. "It came in yesterday. Nice thudy fall with no sting, and the handle," she handed to Ray as he approached the bench. "It's muti use."

The handle was made of the smoothest metal he had ever felt and it took up the heat of his hand like it was enchanted. "How much."

Mavis smiled. "For you, five hundred." He slid the money across the counter as she packed it in a fancy black box. "Anything else today?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, Ma'am. Pass my compliments onto the Leatherworker, they did some wonderful work." He left with a wave and a smile on his face, tonight was going to be delightful.

Ray did his best to fight back his smile as he walked into his home library. You were sitting, curled up on his favourite chair by the window and flashed him a warm smile when you set eyes on him. "Hello Dearest, I wasn't expecting you until six."

He smiled. "Micky let me off early. I got you something." He took the box from under his arm and placed it on the table. "I think you'll like it."

You took your time opening it, untying the ribbon before pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, Beloved, I just wanted to get you something nice." He sat next to you and pressed his lips to the side of your face. "Do you like it?"

You removed the flogger from the box and ran your fingers through the many tails. "Oh yes, I love it. Thank you." You placed your hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Can we use it tonight?"

He grinned against your lips. "Of course."

You return your attention to the implement in your hand; the hilt was odd, it was longer than any others you owned, with two sections separated by a guard, it was only when you took a closer look at the pommel that it registered. "Oh, that's interesting."

His beard scratched your skin as his teeth nipped your ear. "I thought so too." He took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed you as his hand slid up your shirt, only when you were breathless did he pull away to speak. "I'm going to cook you dinner, then you're all mine."

The bedroom was pleasantly warm, as were Ray's hands as he undressed you. "You remember what to say if you want to stop?"

You nodded. "Poppy."

He smiled. "Good girl." The rope he looped around your wrists so he could tie you to the bed posts was soft, each knot made carefully for your comfort. There was enough tension so that when your legs eventually gave out, you would stay standing, your back remaining a perfect target for him to land every well placed strike.

To anyone outside the room, it must have looked like some lurid facsimile of a crucifixion, you standing naked, your arms spread open with each one tied to a bedpost, but it was one of the most erotic things Ray had ever seen. The brush of leather on your skin was gentle, a mere promise of things to come. "Are you ready, my Darling?"

You took a deep breath. "Yes."

The first few hits were soft, an easy warm up so you could fall into the sensation in relaxed comfort. There was a pause and his eyes met yours as a warm, calloused hand found your back, feeling the growing heat coming off your skin before his voice filled the air, already tight and filled with lust. "Are you ready for more?"

"Please." The next hit wasn't soft and it had your muscles coiling to avoid jolting too much in your bonds. He paused to wait for you to relax before delivering the next one, and the second you stopped tensing, they came in steady succession until he hit a pleasant rhythm that filled the room with satisfying thuds.

When he came around to your front this time, his shirt was rolled up to his forearms, and his pupils had all but taken over the pretty blue of his eyes. "So, do you like it?"

"I do, very much."

He smiled and scratched your heated skin, the feeling mixing with the dull ache of his hits and sending tingles up and down your flesh. "Good. Would you like more?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

He pecked your check before disappearing from view again and the hits began once more. Time grew fuzzy around the edges, like he had wrapped your brain in cotton wool and you fell into the support of the rope like a sailor falls into the safety of a hammock. Eventually he stopped, returning to your side as he ran his hand up and down your back. "I think it's time we move on."

He placed the flogger down for the moment and ducked under your arm so he could stand in front of you. The kiss he took you in was filled with lust and he didn't even give you a moment on control as he nipped your lower lip. He slowly ran his hand down your body, his fingers seeking until they reached your core. "Fucken hell, you're so fucken wet Sweetheart, is this all for me?"

He must have meant for the question to be rhetorical because there was no way you could give him a clear answer when his index finger circled your clit. He watched your face as he slid two fingers inside you, smiling to himself as your expression grew tight with pleasure. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He pulled away and your eyes popped open, and you watched as he stepped away, making his way to his bedside drawer to collect a bottle of lube. Each movement was full of intention as he picked up the flogger by the bottom part of the hilt below the guard and spread a generous amount of lube on the pommel. The metal was surprisingly cold, given how it felt when you first held it. He rubbed it through your folds and you felt him grab your face with insistent fingers as your eyes drifted closed. "No, don't close your eyes, I want to watch you feel it."

The second your eyes met his, he slid the hilt inside you in one long, persistent push. He paused for a moment to admire the glassiness of your eyes and the way your breath caught in your chest before slowly pulling it out and then using the same slow, steady pace to slide it back in. The smooth steel was unforgiving hard, and guided by Ray, it pressed against your walls in a way that made you feel unbelievably full. He changed the angle so the rounded head of the pommel pressed against our G-spot with each pass and mercifully, he allowed your eyes to close as your head fell against your bicep.

He seemed intent on torturing you, never picking up speed or adding force but something about the unrelenting pressure and hardness of the hilt increased the pleasure growing in your core regardless. He shifted, never letting go of the flogger and you felt him press himself against your back as he resumed fucking you with it. He was hard in his trousers and it seemed the whole scene was affecting him just as much as you as he began to whisper praise in your ear.

Soon enough, Ray's persistence began to pay off and you felt yourself grow closer to the edge, but as your thighs closed around his hand involuntarily, you felt his foot kick at you calf. "Keep your legs open or you'll regret it." There was no force in the kick, it was nothing more than a tap but for a moment, you felt the same level of helplessness that you imagine the men who ran afoul of him felt when he kicked them to the ground.

You planted your feet on the ground and forced yourself to keep your legs still. "I'm sorry."

He smiled and pressed his lips to the back of your neck as he slid his free hand down your body to run your clit. "Hush, just be the good girl I know you can." While the push of the hilt remained languid, his fingers were fast and the juxtaposition was as confusing as it was enrapturing. "Are you going to come for me?"

You nodded. "Yes, if you want me to."

He smiled as his teeth nipped at your shoulder. "Of course I do." All most as if by magic, you fell into bliss as he sucked a mark into your skin. It was wave after wave of intensity while he poured praise over you like you were Venus in the shell. He slowly slid the handle from you, and you heard it thud before he untied you, allowing you to lean your back against his chest as you found your legs. "Can I have you tonight or will it be too much?"

You shook your head. "No, I don't want to stop."

"Good." He took your hand and led you to the side of the bed, pulling back the covers and gesturing for you to lie down while he undressed. The carefulness was a show in itself, each item coming off slowly before being folded and placed down on a chair. He was deceptively large under his clothes and watching his cock spring free as he slid his black boxers down his legs had your mouth watering.

He shot you a cocky grin as he closed the distance and climbed onto the bed, manhandling you until you were lying under him. He leaned down and kissed you, his beard scratching your skin as one hand trailed down your body so he could lift your legs over his waist. He shifted onto his elbow as his hand slid up your thigh then between you, wrapping around his cock so he could line himself up.

He met eyes with you, his expression going soft. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. "Yes please."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he groaned, his hips twitching as he fought to maintain control of himself. "Fucken 'll Love, your cunt could kill a man." His whole body coiled as his hips started to shift, a rhythm that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each stroke. You clung to him, trying to match his pace as he pushed you closer to the edge. After the steel of the flogger hilt, Ray's cock felt positivity molten and the heat of bare skin against yours had a comforting heat spreading from every point of contact.

His words had turned into a hushed prayer, said more to himself than you as he wove a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. "Come on Love, you gotta come for me."

It happened slowly this time, a radiating warmth emanating from his cock, through your core and to the tips of your fingers and toes. His pace picked up as he chased his own high, the hand that was on your clit curling into your hip in a pushing clasp as he neared the edge. He took you in a kiss, equal part loving and rough as you felt him pulse inside you, and his muscles faltered as his hips stuttered and his weight fell on you.

His forehead rested on yours as he caught his breath, gazing into your eyes lovingly as he smiled softly. "Thank you."

You giggled. "Shouldn't I be thanking you?"

He chuckled and rolled off you, bringing you with him as you rested your head on his chest. "No, you are the one that is so ready to give yourself to me whenever and for whatever I ask and I'll always be grateful for that."

You sighed and pressed your lips to his chest. "You're really sweet when you want to be."

He smiled and brushed his fingers over your cheek. "Yeah, well when you're ready I'm going to run you a bath and get you clean up then we can get some sleep. How does that sound?"

You nodded. "It sounds good. I love you Ray."

His lips were soft when he placed them on your forehead. "I love you too y/n."

Fin

[starseungs]

lunchtime tea, served by yours truly. ksm.

kim seungmin x fem!reader — getting dragged over to the student council office instead of the cafeteria was far from your lunchtime plans. too bad seungmin seemed to think otherwise.

genre/s — fluff, humor if it counts, historical fantasy, academy au, duke's son!seungmin x marquis' daughter!y/n • 1.3k words

warning/s — petty noble disputes, seungmin implies a nepotism plan (laughs nervously), both of them are in their second to the last year of academy = they're both around 21 !!

note — here's a short fic i whipped up as i finish take a shot ! yes, its inspired by those rofan manhwas with academy arcs/settings. im obsessed with those ngl

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

“Would it really be such a crime to enjoy one peaceful lunch session, Your Grace?”

You sank down with a huff on the smooth velvety sofa propped in the middle of the spacious office room, not paying any mind to the way the door shut with a soft click despite your strong swing to open it earlier. A pair of footsteps other than yours echoed in the space, the flat, heavy heels of the figure’s shoes clacking with strong authority. Yet, you remained unfazed despite the strong aura permeating the enclosure—choosing to stand your ground with a click of a tongue.

Seungmin sighed at the sight of your demeanor. 

“And I believe it would be against academy ordinance for you to call me by that title within the campus premises, Lady Y/N.” He reprimands you with a low drawl before carefully taking a seat at his desk located front and center against a massive glass window, his silhouette strengthening as he leans forward to rest his arms on the desk. You could only whine in mockery at his reply.

“Boo,” you scoffed before crossing your arms and craning your head to stare at him. “Such a stickler for the rules, are you not?”

Seungmin hummed. “I suppose you may be right, but could I also offer you information on my father’s well-being?” He says with a tone implying sweetness, even if you knew otherwise. 

“The Duke is alive and well—yes, I am aware,” you pressed for a smile as innocent as you could manage, enjoying the way Seungmin’s formal facade fell apart slightly before getting gathered up once again. The young Lord cleared his throat before continuing the questionable exchange between the two of you.

“Therefore, we should not be having this conversation in the first place.”

“However, you are the heir to the dukedom, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, you do.”

You then brought your hands together in a resounding clap at his answer, signifying a remarkable conclusion. “Then it is the same thing.”

Seungmin groaned tiredly at your unbelievable words. “It is clearly not—” he suddenly paused mid-sentence. You watched as his eyes narrowed with an inquisitive glint before he took an obvious intake of air. “I’m getting the slight inkling that you are doing this to raise my temper.”

A prominent laugh bubbled its way out of your throat. “I do find that side of you quite charming, yes.”

“I will pretend to not hear your comment, My Lady,” Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to subside his growing stress. “And I would like to inform you belatedly that a peaceful lunch should be the last of your priorities at the moment.”

The involuntary squawk that came out of you voiced your offense. “Well, this is surprising news, as I have not received any notice about a new dietary restriction!”

“It is not—” Seungmin caught himself again. You grinned mischievously at his obvious struggle before collecting yourself when you felt a pointed glare being sent in your direction. He exhaled heavily, “Proceeding with the matter at hand, are you aware of the number of complaints the Theta group has placed upon your name?”

“I do believe there has not been a single soul in this academy who has not,” you hummed in acknowledgement.

“My Lady, forgive me for being rude; however, the answer I was hoping for was to be about how you are planning on addressing this issue.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Then, I plan to do nothing about the issue.”

A small thud was heard from Seungmin’s direction, prompting you to look over to see what had caused such a sound. Low and behold, the sight of the academy’s best student holding his head down towards the polished mahogany desk in defeat—rendering you unsure of what to do next. There had only been a few times in your entire lifetime that you had seen Seungmin completely shatter his dignified demeanor, and you had known the man since you were six. Now you fear that you had actually crossed a line. 

“Y/N,” he raised his head ever so slightly to lock eyes with you, his next order coming out as a plea. “Just explain why you poured a cup of tea over Lady Colette’s head.” 

“Then forgive me as well for my words. However, in my perspective, Theta is nothing but a pathetic excuse for an institutional social group,” you sighed, remembering the events of the tea party yesterday. “I do not know why they still prove to be the most popular social group for ladies when the Zeta group has always been better. Theta are barely anything worth more than a babble of obnoxious noble daughters who prefer to place themselves on a higher pedestal than they deserve. Lady Colette was terrorizing a freshman from a country-side barony. I only did my best to stop her, considering the fact that mere words seemed to hold no interest for her.”

Seungmin raised a brow. “Quite an interesting way of describing them, don’t you think?”

“Well, I did send my apologies before doing so, did I not?” You smiled back as part of your reply, proudly this time. Seungmin could only scoff, albeit greatly amused.

“You have got to stop trying to outsmart me in times like these, Y/N,” he said, standing up. “You of all people should know how much I lack the ability to harbor ill feelings towards you.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow at his surprisingly favorable response. For holding the most coveted position of justice available for students in this academy, Seungmin was surely pressing less strongly on your faults. Perhaps it was a good thing that you still made sure to cool the tea before you dumped it on that Marquis’ pompous daughter.

“Playing favorites, are we now, Mr. President?”

Seungmin laughed openly this time. Talk about a change of mood. “I see that you have now chosen to switch to a different formality, yet again,” he mused on his way towards your figure on the couch. “See, you wouldn’t have this much trouble with other noble ladies if you just joined the student council.”

“Here you go again with your offer,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You of all people should know exactly why I cannot take a position in the council, Seungmin.”

“In my opinion, it would be seen as a reasonable training ground for the future Duchess.”

“You just like the way I do paperwork!” You expressed disbelief at his plan’s implication. “And high society might as well burn me into ashes, thinking that I take advantage of my position as your betrothed.”

Seungmin sighed dreamily, completely disregarding your latter comment. “I do love the way you do your paperwork. Such a perfect pair to my work ethic,” he says, sitting comfortably beside you with a relaxed exhale. “Yes, I genuinely do not see what is so wrong about the offer.”

“Seungmin,” you scowled at him. “Do you wish to put a stain on your reputation?”

“Oh, look at you scolding me as if we had already stated our vows,” Seungmin pinched your cheek in a tease. You attempted to push his hand away, only for him to grab it and intertwine your fingers, leaving you breathless as he placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles. “My dearest fiancee, I do not care what others may think of me. If I am able to, I will give anything you ask for without a silver of hesitation.” He gazed directly at your eyes, pupils swimming with unknown desire.

“My Duchess only deserves the best, after all.”

You pursed your lip at his intimate actions, feeling your stomach do crazed flips at his undivided attention. “It is quite concerning how biased you seem to be when it comes to this matter, Mr. President,” you gave in, letting yourself fall on his broad shoulder. “What have I even done to warrant your unyielding obsession with me?”

Seungmin’s chest rumbled in delight, the lull comforting your mind glazed over with his presence.

“Exist. Now, what do you think of becoming Vice President next year?”

“Serve me tea first, and I'll think about it.”

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