#marquis imagines

[multific]

Obsession

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: He had one obsession, you.

Vincent liked the finer things in life.

Food, drinks, clothes, cars our houses, it didn't matter.

To him, quality was the most important.

He became so rich that now he was at a point where he didn't even have the time to spend it. 

He was obsessed with fine things. He loved his suits, had a nice collection of only the best.

He was obsessed with cars, old-timers and newer models both parked in his garage. 

Vincent was obsessed with his job, it gave him authority, something he always craved.

But lately, his obsession was you.

You being just a normal woman he saw one day, he was confused as to just why he found you to be so enticing.

There was something about you, something he couldn't quite figure out.

He found it weird how a man of his status found himself completely taken by a simple woman.

He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

And he needed to have you. 

You were quick to learn that Vincent wasn't the sweet Prince type. Oh, far from it actually.

He was dangerous.

The moment you met him you knew this. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as soon as you saw him. 

He was a walking red flag. 

But just why did you not run? Why did you find yourself intrigued by him? Why did you say yes every time he whispered sweet things into your ear? 

And just why did he have to have that sexy accent?!

The man was a walking red flag, yes, but aparently you were colourblind because you ignored it all. 

He was rich, elegant, sexy and dangerous. Truly an awful mix but what could you do?

Your first date was on top of the Eiffel Tower, he rented the entire thing out, just for the two of you.

You tried to figure out if he was romantic or if he just knew how to woo a woman. 

Maybe both.

Because when later that night, he dropped you off at yours, he kissed all the way from your shoulder to your neck, making you see stars as he whispered 'You are mine' in the most possessive and sexy way a man could.

Your insides were screaming at you, both from fear and arousal.

Why did he have to be so handsome on top of it all?

It would have been so much easier if he just rude but no, of course not, he had to be a gentleman.

It wasn't until a couple of months of dating that you saw his scary side.

One late afternoon, you went to his office while he was on the phone, he failed to notice you as he yelled into the phone the scariest things one could hear.

Promises of torture and a slow death, his gaze and body language said it all, he wasn't lying.

When he was done, due to anger he smashed the phone to the ground and this is when he noticed you as you jumped a little. 

Your eyes locked with his as he cursed at himself in French.

You long forgot why you were in there in the first place.

"I have never seen you so angry, Vincent."

"Mon Amour, I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that. I prom-"

"Do it again." you said cutting him off as he suddenly froze. 

He didn't expect for you to say that, you didn't expect to say that to be fair. He thought you would run and hide or yell at him to never ever look for you.

But you didn’t.

"Something about the anger, you are always so collected and calm for most of the time. Even when you saw the guy flirting with me at the bar, you have never even raised your voice."

"Did you find it... exciting?"

"Yes." your answer was simple and immediate. “Do it again, Vincent.”

“Mon Amour,�� He smirked, he knew you would be perfect.

Vincent truly found his other half in you. His obsession turned into love but his possessive tendencies never faltered. 

Even if you were only a simple woman with a boring job, you had no idea of the power you held in your hands, you had the great Marquis wrapped all around your little finger.

And on the other hand, you had the most expensive diamond wrapped around your ring finger.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

@l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x historian!reader: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

plot: the one where the both of you are within your walls.

warnings: marquis is different here to canon, expect oc behavior but like all fics he’s gonna be cruel museum worker! reader, entitled af french boi, unreliable sibling relationships/dynamics

masterlist

the rain pattered against the glass windows, ringing through the empty halls of the museum. you sat there deep in thought in front of your desk while the storm raged outside. the moon that had look delicately beautiful earlier had disappeared when flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder replaced the serene scenery, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here but surely it hasn’t been that long.

where was he? he should be here by now, you pondered.

a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

“ma’am?” your assistant calls out as he peeks his head through the door.

you look back at him but your lips stay still, not making a word but silently urging him to continue with the rise of an eyebrow.

“he’s here again, requesting a private viewing,” he informs.

oh. you almost forgot about that.

the constant visitor of the museum for the past few weeks was none other than the eccentric and affluent, marquis de gramont. recently, he frequented the museum for a private viewing for some of the rarest and beautiful pieces of art in french history. not that you’re complaining since he paid good money for his private viewings but his persistent requests to have a historian around him, explaining what the intricate histories and symbols drawn beneath the surface were an inconvenience sometimes.

truthfully, there’s no bad conversation with him. you’re quite eager to answer any additional questions or arguments he imposes upon you but judging by the exhibition of his wealth and power, don’t they teach these things to nobility at a young age?

you pull your feet up and drag them towards the door, your assistant gives you a weary smile knowing how long your discussions with the marquis would usually go, for hours on end. 

the walk to the private room was filled with footsteps, your previous thoughts emerging once again. your brother.

 he was supposed to be here to join you for lunch but he hadn’t shown up. lunches shared with the both of you were also your bonding and catch up time but as of late he missed at least four lunches in six weeks. you could understand that maybe it was just his busy schedule but the fewer times you saw him, he seemed anxious and jumpy with sweat beading on his forehead. as if he was always in a hurry, you consistently persisted in the lunches in an effort to get him to open up his problems with you, after all what are siblings for?

you approach the door cautiously, taking a deep breath to polish your mind before stepping into the role of gracious historian, a person that’s ready to deal with the marquis.

entering the room with an eager smile on your face, you greet the marquis who was sitting on a plush white leather couch, donning another dark blue suit with a jacket and tie to finish the look. he doesn’t offer any greeting in reply and comments on your lateness right away.

“you took a while to get here, mademoiselle.” he mutters, checking his watch.

“i apologize for my tardiness sir, i had matters to attend to.” you force a smile. he stares at you carefully, an amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before waving it off.

“let’s get started then.”

the marquis is a difficult person to impress, especially in keeping him engaged in a conversation. more often than not you find yourself exerting a lot of information out of your brain just to keep up with him. you don’t know why you always push yourself to be somewhat superior to him in terms of knowledge but perhaps that’s just what his aura demands of you.

“and that is the final painting for your private viewing today, sir.” you recite familiar lines you’ve been saying for the past six weeks, “are there any questions you have in mind?”

he eyes the painting cryptically before glancing at you and shaking his head, looking somewhat satisfied with the answers you’ve given him. you smile at him once again before speaking.

“if you require any refreshments or desire to make an appointment in the future, enzo will take care of it. thank you for coming to the louvre, sir.” you bow your head before leaving, knowing that the marquis liked to be alone.

once you make it back to the office, you see your phone light up and vibrate. you immediately make a beeline for it and before the ringing ends, unfortunately the call ends before you could answer it but a wave of messages floods your inbox, all from your brother telling you he was at the entrance of the museum.

you hurriedly run out of your office straight to the entrance when you see a faint silhouette by the large doors. you call his name out and he turns to face you, a faint smile on his lips.

”where were you? i’ve been waiting for you the entire day, are you alright?” you immediately assume the worst and begin to fret over your dearest younger brother, gripping his shoulders and checking his face for any possible injuries.

your brother is a good person. you know that. you watched him grow, you watched him become the man he is now but still a small whisper remains in the back of your mind that you are losing him to something , and you can’t do anything to help it.

you can feel it. it  started with the distance and excuses, how every single word that leaves his mouth feels less and less genuine and more like a set of lies meant to calm you down. you want to help him but he won’t let you.

”i’m fine, i just got caught up at work.” he verbally reassures you but pulls away from your touch. you bite your tongue from asking more, afraid of scaring him away. a fight is not what you need right now.

”oh…um” you mumble, taking a small step away from him, feeling your insides crush to the lack of familial warmth from a brother. he stands there unfazed by your movements, the small smile gone in front of you. instead, an uneasiness replaces his eyes and stares at the ground, seemingly too busy to deal with your emotions right now.

“do you want to have dinner together? i know this nice sushi place downtown.” you eagerly offer, his mouth opens to reply but a brief hesitation takes place.

”i can’t.” he replies.

“why?” you ask, annoyance in your tone.

”work, as usual.” he states with a humorless chuckle, worry still present in his face, “i’m here for a favor.”

“what is it? did you get in trouble? you know you can tell me anything right?” you gasp.

“no! no! i just need to borrow some money for this month’s rent. my new job doesn’t pay until the end of the month, my landlord said i’m way overdue for the past three months and he’s gonna kick me out if i don’t pay within this week.”

a silence takes over the conversation as your process the information you are given right now. the excuse feels flimsy and careless.

money isn’t really an issue for you right now. you’re not insanely rich but you are financially stable, yet you feel uncertain about giving your brother money. your brother’s landlord, a strict but yet a sweet old man often texts you whether or not your brother has paid his rent in each month and so far you’ve received no messages from him lately. 

”oh..yeah sure. it’s no problem, i can send it to you later.” you smile for his comfort, making yourself feel approachable to your own blood.

monitoring your sibling’s rent status is definitely odd but with what you’re dealing with right now, to be completely honest you’re just making sure your brother’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that.

”come on in, it’s raining outside.” you grab his arm and pull him in.

”no, seriously, it's alright. you might have some people inside-“

”it’s closing time, at least sit inside and wait for me, please?” you plead.

”okay, i’ll wait for you.” he smiles.

”good, because if i have to deal with another stubborn asshole under this roof, i’m going to lose my mind.” your brother chuckles and takes a seat by the door.

”dinner’s on me.” he adds, wiping the raindrops gathered on his forehead.

“on you? you can’t even pay your rent!” you jest.

”it was a one time thing!”

the amusement slowly dies down when you hear a large number of footsteps echoing through the halls, the door opens and it reveals the marquis. you immediately straighten up and face his direction, slipping in the professional manner that he is accustomed to.

”good evening, sir.” you greet.

the marquis doesn’t reply but instead whispers an instruction to his guards which they nod to and walk ahead of him. the marquis approaches you carefully, briefly eyeing you before glancing at the person behind you.

”it is quite late, don’t you think?” he starts.

”ah, yes it is. the night staff and i are closing the museum for the night, we were simply waiting for your departure. perhaps, you enjoyed your private viewings much longer than usual, sir.”

”you cannot fault me for that, miss. what hangs on the walls of this establishment is history, glory and beauty wrapped in one.”

”that we agree on.” you reply, “will you be here tomorrow? at the same time?” he looks at you again.

”for what reason are you asking?” he raises an eyebrow.

“so enzo and i can immediately arrange for your appointment and room, sir.” 

he pauses and a silence takes place, his eyes wander all over your face trying to see something through you. you keep your gaze on him, composed and calm. as it should be. you get a feeling he relishes on weakness especially people who have a lower pay grade than him or maybe that’s just how he is with everyone.

narcissism was a major takeaway you observed from the marquis the first time you met him, quite self-centered might you add and somewhat snobbish but then again his attention is not something to be exhilarated about.

”yes, miss. i will be here tomorrow.” a small smirk curves his lips.

”you are quite fond of the art around here.” you start.

”yes, what of it?”

”how come you never bought any of it? i’ve heard from a few auction houses that you have quite the art collection. i’m sure it is much more convenient for you, having the art within the comfort of your home.” you reason to him.

more reason to see him less in your life. you think.

“you are not wrong in that. it would be much more convenient.” he agrees.

so buy it then.

”if that’s the case, i must inform you that there are plans to auction that rembrandt you are so eagerly fond of, perhaps you might be interested in joining?”

”i will have to turn that down, miss. as much as i enjoy the comfort of my home, i appreciate the aura of the louvre, it brings a sense of fulfillment and eagerness to me. i would be a fool to rob myself of that. also, the people around here are not so bad.” his eyes rake over your frame carefully, you wonder if he’s looking at your brother. 

you look back and surprisingly no ones there. you shake it off when you hear a car engine nearby.

”oh, well it doesn’t hurt to try.” you begin to walk towards the door and he follows, outside his car sits with a bodyguard on standby waiting for him.

”i appreciate your service, miss. my private viewings have never been a dull moment during your enlightenments.” you lower you’re head slightly at him with a polite smile.

“i, as well must thank you for your service and approach. i tend to enjoy the art much more than when i am with myself.” the marquis remarks, extending his hand towards you.

”my pleasure, sir.” you respond as you shake his hand.

and it’s warm.

”will you be requiring a ride home? i am more than happy to offer it to you.” he offers when you pull your hand away from him.

”thank you for the offer sir but i will be here for later hours.” you retort.

“i do not mind staying here for a little longer.” he insists, you notice his line of sight eye your hand that shook his hand earlier. the cold rainy breeze must have taken control of the warmth of your palms and the marquis could have noticed the coldness of your hand. the marquis fidgets with his right hand as if it was itching to do something.

”it is not needed sir, i am more than capable of bringing myself home.” you state firmly.

”nonsense. i’ll send a car for you. it would be unfortunate if my favorite art historian was harmed in any possible way, how will i survive my viewings?” he urges with amusement in his tone but once again not wanting to back down.

”i would hate to waste your time and effort sir-“ you politely refuse again.

”it is late and unsafe for a woman of your caliber to be alone in the streets of the city. you will not have a choice in this, mademoiselle.” he states firmly this time as his voice hardens and makes it clear it’s not an offer.

it’s a command.

the marquis’ attention is not to be relished on. in this private viewings, the both of you have always maintained a polite and professional demeanor between client and host although there was some casual conversation here and there but you’ve never outright refused him, desiring to keep his temper from exploding and having his unpredictability in your space.

the marquis always gets his way. having private viewings at any time he desires with whatever piece of art he decides to have his eye on and more importantly taking up your time whenever he comes by at the louvre.

in the recent months you’ve spent with him, compliance is all he knows from you so it’s not unlikely that it’s easy for him to shut you down at the first hint of refusal. not to mention, he does not hesitate at confrontation. any small slight against him is somewhat remembered the next time you meet him.

complaints about making him wait slightly longer than usual for his viewings, comments about the apparently poor maintenance of the paintings  and your tardiness to attend to him are the most prominent experiences you remember from him.

the marquis feels entitled to everything within the walls of the louvre.

and that includes you.

another entitled rich snob that thinks he understands art more than you do is not a first time experience, but his insistence of having you brought home because of him somehow brings a chill to your spine.

entitled rich snobs can come to your work any time and however they like but the moment they try to step into your life, well it’s time to push them back. you have no interest in them unless it’s something to do with your job.

unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to do that right now.

“next time.” you think to yourself, “but never again.”

you back down and thank the marquis for this offer as his body guard opens the door to his vehicle, he flashes a small but pleased smile for your gratitude and bids you a safe trip home.

you return a smile at him and watch him leave until his car disappears from where you stand. exhaustion settles back into your nerves when you realized how late it is again.

oh and your brother.

christ. give me strength to deal with this tomorrow.

you sigh and walk back inside to close up.

later, when you get dropped off by the driver assigned to you, doubt starts to creep into your senses whether or not you told the driver where you live. after thanking him and shutting the door, you tilt your head idly at the car and think deep and hard.

”did you or did you not?” you ponder.

groaning heavily you shake it off as exhaustion for your lack of remembrance.

still weird though.

author’s note: kickstarting another series when i’m still not done with four reqs and one series…anyways enjoy and please feel free to like and reblog!

[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!

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Just read the museum marquis fic and I love it. I wonder what would a fanfic where the marquis de gramont met a ballerina reader?

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

Summary: A tall and handsome man has been watching you preform for a while. What will happen when he finally chooses to introduce himself?

Word Count: 2.5k

I got multiple reqs for this! So, here ya go! Enjoy!

“You’re late Y/N!”

I dashed into the locker room, tossing my bag atop the dressing room counter.

“I know! I know! I’m really sorry! My apartment door wouldn’t lock and there was traffic and then-”

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

“I don’t care. Please-just, be ready to go by showtime.”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will be ready, I promise.”

She quickly turned on her heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Her blue dress swayed gently as the dancers rushed around her. Her spine was straight, her posture rigid.

I don’t blame her. I'm just as nervous as everyone else to see how this performance goes. Unfortunately, I'm a dancer, so rigid posture isn't ideal. I'm forced to keep my anxiety bottled up inside my head.

“Y/N.”

My friend called my name, jolting me from my trance. She was fully dressed, with a full face of makeup. She stared at me, completely stunned.

“Y/N, you better hurry! Everyone else is ready to go!”

I moved rapidly, quickly opening my makeup bag, praying I had enough time.

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

“Oh, Clara, it’s been such an aggravating day.”

I stared at my reflection, watching as the foundation completely coated my face.

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

“Well, first my apartment wouldn’t lock.”

I closed one eye and applied eyeshadow as quickly as I could.

“My key wouldn’t work! And of course I couldn’t just leave my apartment unlocked so I had to bother my neighbor to get the spare key I gave her.”

I moved on to the other eye.

“Then there was so much traffic. Then I couldn’t find a good parking spot because I got here so late. Then I had to walk almost six blocks.”

My eye makeup looked... alright. Sure, if I had an extra hour, I could make it look fantastic. But, due to my unfortunate situation, I had to settle for average.

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that cute guy will be here tonight.”

I scoffed loudly.

“He’s always here. If he goes four days without seeing a ballet, just assume he’s dead.”

Oh my goodness, that blush color was really clashing with my eyeshadow. Shit! I didn't have time to remove it and start over. Perhaps I could just add another color to my eyes, creating a strange hybrid color that would blend well with the blush.

“I don’t know Y/N. I’ve been here longer than you, and he only started going regularly once you got here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, right. It’s probably just a coincidence. I doubt he’d spend a shit ton of money on fancy ballet tickets just to see some pretty girl dance.”

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

“I dunno. He always dresses like he’s ready to meet the queen, and he sits in a box. He doesn’t seem short on funds. He definitely could be the type to buy ballet tickets just to admire you.”

Okay, the blush and eyeshadow looked fine. I could handle "fine." I could work with "fine.”

“I don’t know Clara. You know, when you watch a performance, faces and names blend together because there are so many people on stage. I doubt he picked me out of the crowd and decided I was going to become the object of his affection.”

I put on some red lipstick, trying not to be distracted by the fact that all the dancers I saw in the mirror were fully prepared.

“Besides, a handsome man like that?... he probably has a girlfriend.”

Clara perked up.

“Oh, so you admit you think he’s handsome.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

Clara let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. My face turned hot. Thankfully, the makeup covered most of the natural pink that had begun to appear on my cheeks.

“Oh my God you have a little crush on him, don’t you!”

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

“I’ve never seen him with a girl Y/N! I think he’s single and ready to mingle!”

Clara’s loud voice drew some attention. I swiveled on my heels and placed a finger to my lips.

“Sh!”

-

The show was finished, and the final bows were taken.

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a wave. I was moved to know that they were all applauding for this performance. As the entire company gathered for one final bow, I observed the crowd's faces contort into bright smiles. I felt moved knowing that at least one person in the audience was thinking about what a wonderful job I did tonight.

I hoped it was the man whose appearance I had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

The gold theater sparkled. The red seats gradually vanished as people rose to pay their respects to the performers.

I was unable to avoid glancing around at the various people in the crowd. I started in the box seats, hoping to spot a tall man with a penchant for fashion.

No luck.

My gaze was drawn to the floor seats. I scanned them all as quickly as I could. Maybe he sat closer? If he truly came to see me, it wouldn't hurt to get the best view possible in the front row.

No luck.

I'm not sure why I was so desperate for him to be here. Nonetheless, I felt my heart sink slightly as I considered the possibility that he missed tonight's performance.

We finished with a company bow. We waved goodbye, and quickly scattered off the stage.

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

“You did so well! Jesus, I thought for sure you’d be all scattered from coming in late, but you really pulled it off well!”

I didn't notice her hands cutting through the air as she spoke. I didn't even bother looking at her. I kept my head down, stuffing various cosmetics into my black backpack.

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

“Alright, what’s going on? Who’s got you bummed?”

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

“Come on Y/N, there’s thousands of people in that crowd! There’s no way you could’ve checked every seat for him!”

My lips were pursed. Clara wrapped her hands around my shoulders, soothing me. She leaned into my ear, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I bet he showed up tonight. And if he didn’t, it was his loss entirely.”

-

The cold Paris air bit at my exposed skin. The chill penetrated my tank top, chilling me to the bone. I drew the sides of my peacoat together, attempting to conceal my torso and thighs from the wind.

I began to stroll, trying to enjoy the lovely Paris evening despite the fact that so much was less than ideal.

After about thirty paces, I was struck by an uneasy sense that someone was watching me. I initially ignored it. There were numerous high-rise apartment buildings. I'm sure that feeling came from being a window away from someone's living space, and the possibility that someone was watching me inadvertently.

I couldn't shake the feeling even after another thirty paces. The buildings in this particular neighborhood were completely dark. That is, everyone was sleeping, and if anyone was watching me, it probably would go unnoticed by bystanders.

I took a peek over my shoulder to ensure my intuition was correct.

About thirty feet behind me was a tall, lanky man in a black coat.

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

I kept my head down, trying to maintain my composure.

His footsteps became audible. I focused on them, noticing that they were becoming slightly louder with every step.

Shit.

Shit!

God, this guy is a total creep! How could I be so stupid?!

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

I started to move faster, trying to appear calm despite being aware that my heart was pounding in my ears. My blood rushed to my heart, leaving my face pale and cold.

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

The man’s velvety accent pierced the air like a knife. My heart jumped.

I’m fucked.

“Really, I just want to talk with you.”

No way in hell was I stopping. My calves burned. My eyes were wide. My hands trembled within my pockets.

My chest came into contact with something solid. I stumbled back, looking up.

Oh my goodness, he was right in front of me.

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

The man's neutral gaze softened as he noticed my anxiety.

“I am very sorry to have frightened you, madame. I am simply a fan wishing to pay my respects.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I promise, I mean no harm. There is no reason to be frightened.”

He was considerably taller than me. In two seconds, he could pick me up and throw me into the back of a shady white van.

Nonetheless, his luxurious accent and courteous eyes made me believe he was telling the truth. So I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly.

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

“But of course. It would be foolish of me to disregard the opportunity to observe such talent.”

Wow, I'm going to give credit where credit is due. He’s a smooth talker. He speaks with such elegance. I'm unable to ignore his words. With bated breath, I await each sentence.

“Well, that is very kind of you to say.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I only convey the complete truth. In my lifetime, I have seen hundreds of ballets, operas, and plays. It is uncommon to find such a passion for the arts in the hearts of the prefromers. Few people allow creativity to encompass every aspect of them. But, I have noticed fire within you.”

He glanced deeply into my eyes, as if he wanted to capture some of the "fire" within me and preserve it for himself.

“I can tell by the way you dance and command the stage.”

The gentle breeze rustled the end of his overcoat as his pale eyes shone in the pale moonlight. He exuded a sense of mystery that beckoned me to embrace the unknown.

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

He came to a halt, his piercing gaze catching my lips before darting back to my eyes.

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

Forget about my face being cold; it was now scorching hot. I just hope I kept enough blush on my cheeks to hide the natural pink.

He extends his leg, the buckle of his pricey loafer catching the moonlight. He steps closer, the wonderful aroma of whiskey and bergamot wafting into my nose. The scent cloud muffles my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation.

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh, well, my entire life. I started the moment I could walk and I’ve pretty much been in the dance studio everyday since.”

The enigmatic man nodded, pleased with my response. I took my hands from my pockets, as they were sweating despite the chill.

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

I took a deep breath, careful not to trip over my words and reveal that my heart was racing.

“I remember my first official dance class. I was- about four or five.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“All the kids were complaining. I mean, y’know, at that age it basically is just an excuse for the parents to get their obnoxious kids out of the house.”

He chuckled.

Yes!

“But I never complained, not once. I loved it from the start. And, it’s completely consumed my life since then.”

He took another step forward. The distance between us was almost non-existent now. To meet his gaze, I had to almost completely crane my neck back.

“I can tell. You don’t just dance, you float over the stage. It really is beautiful to watch.”

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped my face with his hand. His grip was gentle, as if he were coddling a baby bird.

My mind was empty, a void waiting to be filled by him.

He exhaled deeply, a breath fanning over my face. I instinctively leaned into him, craving his warmth, craving his scent, craving…

Him.

He ran his calloused thumb along my cheekbone. My face was burning. I knew he could feel it beneath his palm.

He grinned.

“You have a very bright future in the arts. Paris is only the beginning.”

I could sense the tension rising. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for something magnificent to unfold.

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

“I hope and pray that you will allow me to be an integral component of your bright future.”

He slipped something into my empty pocket sneakily. He smiled broadly. My heart skipped a beat. His smile was enticing, so simple yet so effective.

“Call me, Ma chère.”

He took a step back, turned, and began to stroll away. My shoulders loosened. My chest gave way. My cheeks had lost their warmth. The tension had been released.

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

His figure looked very intriguing. Most of his ridges and curves were hidden by his long coat. It enticed one to venture into uncharted territories.

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

[rosevette]

·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS pt. 1 my mlist

𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

💋ྀིྀི résumé : meeting the man of your dreams at an art auction in Paris isn’t too good to be true, right ? Well, your bodyguard thinks just the opposite.

1.0k words + tags : dumb, ‘naive’ !reader, manipulation, fantasizing, smut, age gap, pet names, fingering, slight non-con, evil intent ⭑

୭ৎ … this is lowk based on one of my bots with marquis here … this is my first little blurb, I don’t really write but this idea is too good to not share w yall. if u see any spelling or grammar mistakes , ignore !! part two here - sincerely, rose

IN THE HEART OF PARIS, amidst the elegant splendor of an art auction, you found yourself captivated by the beauty of the pieces on display. Adorned in a gown of midnight blue silk, you moved gracefully through the room, your eyes alight with fascination as you admired each exquisite masterpiece.

As you lingered before a stunning portrait, a voice broke through the murmurs of the crowd.

"A breathtaking piece, is it not?" Turning, you found yourself face to face with a tall, green eyed brooding man. Dressed in a tailored suit of charcoal grey, he exuded an air of effortless charm as he regarded you with a knowing smile.

"Yes, it truly is," you replied, unable to tear your gaze away from his piercing emerald eyes. Engaging in polite small talk, you found yourself drawn into conversation with the stranger, his wit and sophistication captivating your attention.

“Marquis De Gramont. And you?” He spoke with a thick French accent, his thin lips forming a smile as he extended out his arm, opening his hand for you to shake. Flattered by him already, you shake his hand, your other one clutching onto your purse as you introduced yourself.

How charming, he was, you thought to yourself. He was not only handsome, but was a gentleman as well. You could tell by the way he just suited himself, and that sparkle in his eyes you glanced at whenever you two conversed.

One thing you didn’t know was that in fact, this man was the complete opposite of charming and well, a gentleman. Yes, he held himself with impeccable style and his composure was kept controlled, but the thoughts that came across his mind were just pure sin. He thought of how pretty you would look with your dress rolled up to your stomach as he pounded into you in the back of his limousine, maybe even perhaps hidden in an empty aisle of this very art auction.

The way his hands are would just fit around that small neck, the pearls that would fall on the ground as he pulled it off of you, and finally, your watery puppy eyed face he’d enjoy seeing begging and pleading for him to stop , or maybe even for more.

As the auction commenced, you both found yourselves bidding on a magnificent painting—a Madonna and Child by Duccio. With each raise of the paddle, the tension between you grew, the excitement of the bidding war fueling your competitive spirit.

In the end, it was you who emerged victorious, the winning bid earning you the coveted artwork. As you basked in the glow of your triumph, the Marquis offered you a gracious smile, masking the flicker of his ulterior motives in his eyes.

Later that evening, as the auction drew to a close and guests began to depart, the Marquis De Gramont approached you once more, his charming smile never faltering.

"Ah, ma chérie, it seems fate has brought us together once again," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk as he took your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. A blush crept onto your cheeks at his bold gesture, and you chuckled softly in response.

"Perhaps our paths will cross again during your time in Paris," you replied, returning his flirtatious banter with a playful glint in your eye.

As you turned to leave, blowing a teasing kiss in his direction, you couldn't shake the feeling of his lingering gaze on your back. Climbing into the waiting limousine, you settled into the plush seat beside your ever-watchful bodyguard, John Wick. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he glanced at you.

"Was that the Marquis?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

You rolled your eyes, dismissing his worry with a wave of your hand.

"And what about him, John?" you retorted, feigning nonchalance as you closed the door behind you.

"You shouldn't be so friendly with strangers," John admonished, his concern palpable as he turned his attention back to the road.

Returning to the luxurious confines of the Ritz Paris, you found yourself lost in thought, the memory of your encounter with the Marquis lingering in your mind. Despite John's warnings, you couldn't shake the feeling that the Marquis's intentions were harmless. Little did you know, danger lurked just beyond the facade of charm and sophistication.

The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the silk curtains of your suite, you awoke to find John reading quietly on the sofa.

"I ordered some room service," he informed you, his gaze never leaving the pages of his book. You greeted him with a playful smirk, teasing him for his lack of a proper morning greeting.

While indulging in breakfast, your attention was drawn to a shiny box nestled among the pastries on the cart. With curiosity piqued, you opened it to find a stunning Van Cleef necklace in your favorite shade of sapphire blue. Your heart skipped a beat as you read the accompanying note, the words "for mon chérie" sending a chill down your spine.

Assuming it was a thoughtful gesture from John, you were taken aback when you realized the true sender. The Marquis's charm had ensnared you once again, his gift a reminder of the dangerous game he was playing. With a sense of foreboding settling over you, you couldn't help but wonder what other surprises the Marquis had in store.

End of part 1. Part 2.

© rosevette 2024 . do not copy !

[marquisedegramont]

Lighting Vincent’s cigarette for him

-🧸

eeeeeeeee quick drabble before i go back 2 working on my artfight refs | MENTIONED : established relationship between reader & vin, kinda idk but its implied vincent cant keep a bitch before hopping onto another

VINCENT stared out the window as drops of rain pelted towards the floor of the city of Paris. It was a gloomy night like any other, with the bright, warm light of the buildings that lined the Paris skyline often flickering from dark windows in the morning to their sunlight-like dots that shined in the night.

You open the door to his bedroom where he’s sitting on a chair, overlooking Paris in a penthouse high above common people. His hair is a mess, probably just woke up when you went to get a glass of water.

“Why are you awake, love?” Vincent glances up at you when you walk towards him, hand on the base of his neck, gently ruffling with the strands of brunette hair.

“Je ne dors pas,” I can’t sleep, Vincent says to you. “I have been restless for a while.”

“How come?” You ask him before taking your seat at the corner of his bed. While dating, you and Vincent didn’t really share the same bed. Vincent felt…. uncomfortable when it came to exposure to someone for a long time. People circulated in his life, changed; left and went, came back and stayed, got pushed away.

The Marquis doesn’t reply to you, he stares at you for a second or two, silence hanging in the air. Before his gaze turns back to the city.

“Stress?”

Vincent gives a half-assed sound.

“Perhaps.”

Your eyes flicker from the window, to the shape of Vincent as the lights outside frame his silhouette. It was well past midnight when you checked the clock in the room, each second ticked with utmost insanity. A sluggish second passed. And still, Paris didn’t sleep. Outside were cars, and here inside was both you, and the Marquis de Gramont.

“You know,” You say to break the silence. The silence wasn’t peaceful, neither was it tense. It was a strange in between of both peacefulness and tension. Something compelled you to speak, something to fill the air that wasn’t the smell of the Paris penthouse and the perfume you wore. “I never really believed in this whole ‘counting sheep’ thing.”

Vincent shifts in his seat, almost hunched over but really not at all. He looks over towards you. The faint glow of the light that comes from the vintage window barely even lighting one side of his face.

“Me neither.” Vincent replies. “It gets boring, and I don’t drift off to sleep. Instead, I lay awake, just counting. Hoping that I do.”

“Me too.” You answer back with. “My mum used to… read fairytales to me.” You say. “I guess it always worked.”

Vincent goes silent immediately afterwards. You don’t know wether he’s thinking or just refusing to reply. He was a confusing man. He never made intentions clear, unless you were smart and knew how to dissect him from skin to his bones, maybe his soul. But you don’t know his soul yet. You don’t think you’ve seen his heart. Well you’ve seen it.

To you, Vincent was art. A piece. Beautiful to look at, something that carried vicious history, yet cradled beautiful memories. But to be art, was to be looked at. Vincent was looked at, admired and feared. You don’t think anyone has come close to this before.

You blinked, there was a stick in between Vincent’s slender fingers that have never seen the work of the poor. A cigarette. There wasn’t a lighter anywhere.

Corpse silent, it was like a graveyard in the bedroom. A pretty, vintage bedroom fit for a noble such as the Marquis. Unable to contain your words and actions any longer, you stood up from your place on the corner of the bed. You scoured through your purse for something, then you felt the shiny, flat material on the pad of your fingers.

You held the lighter up near Vincent; he slips the cigarette, now pressed in between his lips. “Can I light it?”

“Oui.” He says.

You flick the lighter and the soft hiss and flicker of flame cuts through the previously quiet air. The match flared to life, casting a warm glow on Vincent’s face open with his gaze flickering over onto you, a hint of…something tender flashing in his eyes before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He takes a drag of smoke, dissipating into the cold air of Paris in the night.

[6lostgirl6]

Heyo! Love your recent post on the marquis de gramont. Could you do a one shot where the reader manages to escape yandere marquis and manages to hide in another country for a few months before the marquis confronts them in a motel they were hiding in

No Escape

Pairing: Yandere!Vincent De Gramont x Fem!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Imprisonment, Mentions of Codependency, Controlling Vincent, Panic Attack, Cursing, Arguing, Forced Kissing (At first), Happy Ending. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 1.5k

It took you months to earn his trust, which he scarcely showcased to anyone. The months you pretended you were finally falling in love with him, with lovely words and tender affections that gradually lowered his guard with each passing day.

There were privileges that came with trust, which you soaked up like a sponge. He eventually permitted you to roam around the mansion without him or a bodyguard, which led to him permitting you to spend time outside within the gates. Finally, you were allowed to sleep in your room without someone monitoring your door during the night.

However, you ultimately reached a breaking point when you recognized one day that those affectionate words and acts had transformed into something more…sincere. You'd lay awake in your room, your mind racing at the prospect of succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome.

Your altered phone, gifted by Vincent, lay in pieces on the bedroom floor when you made your escape. You crept out under the beauty of the moonlight, and your efforts during the day allowed you to memorize Vincent's men's routine patrols. You wore only the clothing on your back and a little satchel containing your monthly allowance, which Vincent would give you as a reward for your good behavior. The hardest thing was climbing over the fence, but you made it out with only minor cuts. Despite the joy of finally experiencing independence, you couldn't shake the sadness in your heart. You couldn't help but think you were doing something wrong.

'It isn't love; it isn't love.' Throughout your entire voyage to Canada, you would repeat those words in your head like a broken record. When the landlord handed you the keys to your flat, you couldn't help but feel awful. When you received your new cell phone a week later, you resisted the urge to call him.

You missed him terribly and despised yourself for it.

A month has gone by, and you weren't any better off than you were a few weeks before. You did, however, have a job interview coming up in the next month, and you were pleased that you were making progress toward regaining independence. You even purchased a new cell phone for amusement purposes.

Vincent had certain expectations for you as his lover while you were imprisoned. He wanted you to be entirely reliant on him, letting him make decisions for you and requiring his permission to do everything or walk outdoors. He promised to take care of you, to make you want for nothing, and to give you the wedding of your dreams. However, beneath the surface, you became less and less of yourself.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you couldn't help but wonder if you would have been happier at ho-Vincent's mansion. Your eyes threatened to shed tears as you glanced at the screen of your phone.

Vincent's number was illuminated in the darkness of your room, casting a chilling glow across your face. The call button begged you to merely press it in order to make amends.

You tapped the button and placed the phone to your ear with a nervous exhale. As the phone continued to ring, your eyes were wide and stared into space. As you waited for him to pick up, your heart was racing in your chest, and you nervously chewed your nail.

'He'll be mad...'

The thought occurred to you, and you immediately regretted making the phone call. You were aware that Vincent had a temper, and while he never took it out on you, you weren't immune to his stern lectures when you got in trouble, or how he destroyed his possessions in front of you. Even his patience with you can waver, and you weren't planning on finding out.

When the person on the other end of the line picked up the phone, you hurriedly hung up, unable to handle the sound of his voice. You tried taking a few deep breaths, but your heart refused to stop pounding rapidly as you stared down at the phone.

Within the first five seconds, your phone rang, and you felt your heart was about to stop. When Vincent's number came across your screen again, you screamed and threw the cellphone against the wall. Your phone was scattered in pieces on the carpet, similar to the altered phone you left at the mansion. You prayed to whatever higher power that the call wasn't long enough for Vincent to track it down.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, rising from your bed and walking about your room, your hands grasping the sides of your head, attempting to stabilize yourself. "Fuck, fuck!"

You couldn't sleep that night.

You were strolling to your apartment, finally entering the elevator with a spring in your step. A month had gone by with no occurrences, and your concern was fading, with your confidence progressively taking its place.

The job interview went well, and you were hired at the local supermarket in the little town where you resided. It was extremely discreet, and you preferred it that way. Anything too extravagant would have drawn Vincent's attention, which was the last thing you needed.

When the doors reopened, you proceeded to head towards your apartment door, fishing out your keys from your satchel. Sorting through your keys, you unlocked the door and walked into the dark apartment, shutting the door behind you. You walked over to the wall, flicking on the lights.

The next thing you heard caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Did you enjoy your interview, chérie?" A familiar voice spoke, prompting you to press your back against the wall in panic.

Vincent stood in front of the window, his back to you, watching the beauty beyond the glass. His hands were in his pants pockets, and his posture was rigid.

"V-Vincent I-" You stuttered but came to a pause when Vincent turned to face you.

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his big lips formed a stiff line. He was clearly furious with you, but he tried to remain calm.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He demanded, taking a few steps closer to you. His stature was imposing, towering well over six feet tall, and you hoped he'd keep his distance.

You could only stay silent; your eyes were locked on him.

"Do you?" He asked once more, his tone becoming darker.

"I-I'm sorry, Vincent, I just-" Your mind was blank, unable to generate a suitable explanation. Your heart was attempting to burst from your chest, and your breathing was growing shaky.

How can you explain your mixed feelings to your kidnapper?

Vincent's patience was clearly wearing thin as he strode towards you, seizing your upper arms and dragging you close. He disregarded your terrified yelps as you struggled to keep your distance. However, because you were close to the wall, Vincent quickly trapped you against it. Your faces were barely a few inches apart, and you struggled to keep the warmth from flowing into your cheeks.

"How could you do something like this? I thought we were happy together and that you finally accepted our love! Why would you run away and scare me to death?!" He yelled, shaking your body somewhat as he spoke. "Do you understand what you put me through?!"

Suddenly, there was a fire that was ignited in your heart that you'd never felt before. All those months poured through you and you didn't think before you opened your mouth.

"What I put you through, what about me?! You kidnapped me and kept me inside your stupid mansion like I was some doll to do your bidding! How dare you stand there and act like you didn't hurt me first!"

Before he could reply, you continued, "But, I fucking love you! Even after everything, I still fell for you, and I hate myself for it! So, I ran! I ran away from you-"

You were cut short as Vincent yanked you into a kiss, his body crushing you against the wall. As you struggled, his arm curled around your waist, and the other gripped your hair to prevent you from pulling away.

However, the longer the kiss persisted, the less you struggled and ultimately succumbed to your predicament. He's kissed you several times before in the past, but this kiss was different. It was the first kiss where you two were finally on the same page.

You returned his kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist. He growled slightly into the kiss, drawing away slightly and planting a gentle kiss on your brow. You leaned against his chest, tears welling up in your eyes as you understood what had transpired.

Vincent brought his lips to your ear, his fingers twirling in your hair as he murmured darkly, "You will never do this again, do you hear me?"

His words sent shivers down your spine, full of ownership, and you knew your independence was gone. You softly agreed, allowing him to bring you closer to him in an embrace that was everything but sweet.

"You'll never escape me; I'll always find you." He murmured again, planting a firm kiss against your temple. "Always, chérie."

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @bookworm-with-coffee @leiasolo77 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @cynic-spirit

[endless-ineffabilities]

le marquis et le moineau

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

themes: angst, twisted business associates(?) to lovers, dubious morals, the Marquis has his eyes set on you and only you (but you don't know that ofc)

a/n: this bloody Frenchman has been plaguing my thoughts (thanks to a very sinister portrayal by one Bill Skarsgård). Mind you, I still haven't even seen the film John Wick 4, but I'm a fan of the series, and the morsels I've seen of the Marquis have been more than enough to give rise to a new lil fixation.

word count: 932 ▪︎ more of moineau ▪︎ other works

It started as a little game.

Just some passing fancy between yourself and the Marquis.

Or at least, that was what it was supposed to remain. Only that. A game.

But you should have known better. You should have known that any game played with Marquis Vincent de Gramont may eventually turn deadly.

Your high-risk job at the Continental usually also reaped the highest of rewards.

Tip off the right person and receive a gold coin. Deliver a message, without any bumps or bruises to all parties involved, and your reputation would be given a much-needed boost or two.

This business was danger wrapped in deceit wrapped in glamour. And you knew how to deal the right cards.

Although it seems, things are not as easy when it comes to the Marquis.

Vincent was every bit a menace as his reputation decreed. The Marquis tasked with restoring the authority of the High Table, he was nothing short of cunning and ambitious, prepared to take down any and all those who posed a threat to his objectives.

Dangerous. Deceptive. Glamourous as well, mind you. He was perfectly suited to this world.

He was also brazen, pretentious, snobbish.

And beautiful.

He knew just how to tug at your strings and make you bend. Or at least, he always tried to.

Like he was doing then, in one of the bigger rooms in his palacial estate, wherein only the two of you stood with only a few feet in between.

"What did we agree upon, mon moineau?" His silky accented voice implored.

My sparrow, he called you. The reason for which remained undisclosed to you, not for a lack of trying to wrench it out of him.

Why couldn't he call you something sweeter? Of the more classic French romantic sobriquets?

Chérie, perhaps. Mon amour. Mon coeur.

But no. You were stuck with measly ol' "my sparrow".

Of course, not that it mattered. Perhaps the Marquis reserved his sweeter words for those he actually cared for. At the very least, well-regarded enough to be associated with. Those impossibly beautiful and refined members of European aristocracy that he was so often rumoured to be wining and dining.

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

You stared up at his pacing figure. "I am fully aware of what we agreed upon, Vincent. What I have done does not breach that. I am perfectly capable - "

His head snapped to you menacingly. "You could have been killed, moineau."

You shrugged. "Consequences. I did not enter this damned line of work without considering the risks. As it goes, getting killed would not exactly be an uncommon occurence."

"Don't jest." He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in obvious annoyance.

You took a step forward, trying to find his gaze. "And if I were to... pass... so what? Everything would simply go on. The truth is that I'm already a ghost. Doing what I do in our world makes me some kind of spectre. I am already not there."

You knew this. You repeated this to yourself when you woke, and before you went to sleep. It was the only truth you could hold on to.

Until him. Until some buried, twisted part of you began hoping that he would care.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

You continued, as he kept looking away. "You would go on. Perhaps even find a new sparrow to play with."

You felt it. As your words hung in the air, his entire mood shifted. He straightened, and with both hands burrowed in the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, his eyes land on you.

He slowly took a step forward, and then another, until his figure loomed over you.

In all your shared moments, you learned to discern the quick switches in his temper and his expression. But not enough, not completely.

The look he was giving you then was impossible to read.

"You think..." His left hand drifted to the hem of your blazer, toying with it. "... that I..." His index finger then drifted upward over your silk shirt, stopping in between your collarbones. His tongue briefly darted out to wet his lips, catching your eye. "... would simply replace you?"

You finally felt his touch on your face, his fingers delicately caressing your jawline.

He made a fleeting tsk tsk sound with his tongue, as if in disapproval.

"I believe you underestimate just how much you matter to me, mon moineau."

You did your best to remain unfazed. This was the game, wasn't it? Whatever you might think it can become, what you hope it can unravel into - set it aside as delusion.

Don't fall.

It's just a game to play.

Don't fall.

You took a deep breath, then smiled sweetly. Mockingly. "What makes you think I would even pay any mind to how much I matter to you? That line of thinking doesn't work for people like us, Marquis."

"People like us," he repeated, amusement furrowing his brow. "Non, mon moineau. There are no other people like us."

He leaned in, eyes not leaving yours, all but eliminating the distance between your faces. You could feel his breath on your skin, could count the faint spotting of freckles around his nose.

You wished to ask him what he wanted, but held back.

No. There was something better to say.

"What are you waiting for?" You managed to voice the words despite your very heart lodged in your throat.

He smiled, proud of his precious sparrow.

"Mon coeur... I've been waiting for you my entire life."

Ahhh! 🖤 Everybody say thank you Bill Skarsgård and the on-set stylist for the visual treat that is the Marquis.

I'm not even sure if this will find the right crowd - seeing as my lovely followers are of the HotD persuasion. But oh well, I had to get it out of my system.

Could be more of this... idk 🤷‍♀️ Rest assured I haven't forgetten about all my series works, even the ones I haven't started but said I would do...

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Pinky Promise

Yandere Lesbian Knight x Afab! Childhood Friend Reader x Yandere Cross Dressing Noble (Genderfluid)

      “Today we have a new orphan joining us.” The director pushed a young girl with (hair length and color) hair forward, the young girl shyly glanced at the other orphans. She was awfully small compared to the other kids and dainty like a doll. “This is (your first name). Play nicely.”

       (Your name) shyly glanced around at the other kids, a young girl with bright red hair stuck out to her the most. The large girl played with a stick in the corner of the room by herself. (Your name) slowly approached the girl.

       “H-hello.” (Your name) bowed her head when the red head snapped her head to look at her. The young girl looked much like a wounded animal than a nine year old, which only made (your name) even more nervous. “I-I’m (your first name), what’s your name?”

          The crimson haired girl simply sat still, not muttering a single word while her cinnamon colored eyes glanced (your name) up and down. A scoff then left her lips.

        “Leave me alone.” (Your name) nearly cried when the red head glared at her. “I don’t need friends.”

       Another girl toddled over to (your name) and took her hand. “That’s Marisa. She’s mean. But you can come play with us! I’m Jezebel!”

      (Your name) glanced back at Marisa who sat hunched over at her spot in the corner. She looked so lonely…

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       “You shouldn’t hang out with Marisa, (your name).” Jezebel whispered to the (hair color) girl. “She’s bad luck.”

      For the last few weeks, (your name) tried to get closer to the red haired girl. But to no avail. She was met with hostility and cruel insults. Marisa was just like a wounded animal… one that had been cornered and beaten for so long that it didn’t know how to handle affection.

        “Bad luck?” (Your name) asked softly, she turned to glance at the messy crimson haired girl. Her body hunched over in the corner as she hugged herself close. 

         “She has blood red hair. She has impure blood.”

        “Impure blood?” (Your name) tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow in confusion. What on earth did that mean?

        “Yes… it means she has monster blood.” Jezebel hissed, her body trembled when Marisa turned to glance their way. “She’ll grow up and become a monster.”

       (Your name) frowned and glanced over at Marisa. Her heart clenched at how miserable she looked. How long had she been alone?

        “I don’t think she’s a monster.” (Your name) softly whispered before she stood up. The young girl placed a finger on her chin. “Thanks for your concern, Jezebel but I think I’ll take my chances. If she tears me apart then you’re right. But if not, you’ll have to apologize.”

        (Your name) even more determined to befriend the crimson haired girl… but how?

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.

      Marisa furrowed her brow when (your name) offered to share her food with her. This was new. She was suspicious of the new orphan. (Your name) was stupidly trusting of people and naive. Marisa hated it. Marisa hated how the other girl kept trying to get close to her… did (your name) know she was a monster?

      “I thought I told you to leave me alone.” Marisa huffed, the red head crossed her arms over her chest. Her messy red waves covered her cinnamon eyes a bit from the movement. “You probably have your germs all over that bread anyways.”

        (Your name) frowned but placed the half loaf beside Marisa’s plate. Her expression hopeful.

        “You just always sit alone…” (your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, her body shook a bit under Marisa’s intense gaze. “I want to sit with you.”

        Marisa rolled her eyes, the red head snatched the stale bread and took a bite. Her eyes cautiously glance over the smaller girl. (Your name) couldn’t hurt her even if she tried. She was so small, her wrist would probably snap if she tried to hit Marisa.

       (Your name) was like a lost, little lamb that approached a wolf. Didn’t she know how dangerous the world was? How people could harm her or have ulterior motives? How could someone be so naive?

        “Whatever.” Marisa stiffened when (your name) scooted next to her, her arms wrapped around Marisa in a hug. “Hey?! What are you doing, weirdo?!”

         “Well, I’m hugging my friend.” (Your name) giggled with a bright smile. Marisa felt her heart stop for a minute, an unfamiliar feeling washing over her. Was this magic?

        “You’re weird.” Marisa huffed, a small blush on her face. Maybe she’d let (your name) stick around… maybe. 

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       The two girls were inseparable. Wherever Marisa was, (your name) was. At first it irritated the crimson haired girl. Why on earth did (your name) have to be so persistent about being by her side? Yet there was a part of her that adored it.

         Marisa loved that (your name) would cry when she wasn’t there. That (your name) depended on her company. It made Marisa feel wanted for once…

         And it’s why Marisa interfered whenever someone was interested in adopting (your name). She didn’t want to lose her only friend… her family.

      Marisa would throw bugs from the trees on potential adopters and play nasty pranks on them. She’d do anything to keep (your name) by her side.

         “Mari?” (Your name) mumbled from their shared bed, her little body snuggled against the red haired girl’s body. “Are you having nightmares?”

         Marisa felt herself melt under (your name)’s concerned expression. The red haired girl curled into (your name)’s body, her arms wrapped around the smaller girls in a comforting manner. Yes… this felt right, this was right.

       “I was just thinking was all.” Marisa whispered, her hands moved to throw the blanket over (your name) and her head to hide their secret pact. “Can you promise me something?”

       (Your name)  eagerly nodded her head. Her eyes focused on Marisa’s. “Yes, of course.”

        “Stay with me forever.” Marisa whispered from under the white sheet. Her cinnamon eyes full of seriousness. “Pink promise me.”

      (Your name) nodded her head and took Marisa’s pinky in hers. “Pinky promise.”

        The two girls laid under the sheets in a mess of limbs. It wasn’t just a promise to Marisa… it was a swear.

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         One day, an elderly gentleman came to the orphanage. One that took great interest in (your name). To the point even Marisa’s tactics to get him to change his mind wouldn’t work. She had overheard the man talk about (your name)‘s pure mana. How lucky was her friend to be gifted in magic while she had no skills…

       The elderly man frowned at how distraught the red haired girl was when she realized her friend was going to be adopted. The elder held out a hand to the sniffling girl.

        “Why don’t you come with us?” He asked in a soft voice. “You just want to be with your friend, don’t you?”

        Marisa stared at the old man with wide eyes. His salt colored facial hair nearly concealed his whole face but he had kind eyes… eyes that were similar to (your name)‘s.

        “Y-you’d adopt me too?”

        “Well of course. I’d hate to separate someone who has worked so hard to be beside their friend.” The old man smiled at Marisa. “My name is Orick. I’m a herbalist.”

        “My name is Marisa Guerra… and I’m (your name)‘s best friend.”

          Orik took the red head girl’s hand and lead her over to (your name) who smiled brightly at Marisa. It seemed the two of them would continue to be together.

       The two girls ran towards each other and hugged. Orik smiled at the two. This time he’d ensure (your name)‘s safety… he wouldn’t fail her family twice.

        And Marisa would be the perfect fit for her protector.

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      (Your name) and Marisa giggled as they sat side by side in a lavender field. The violet flowers tangled between their small hands while they wove flower crowns for one another.

      “Mari, you suck at this.” The smaller girl giggled at her friend’s expense. The red haired girl flushed a bright pink in the face from how distorted her crown was.

      “I’m doing my best! Not my fault my hands aren’t as dainty as yours.” Marissa grumbled, the red head snuck glances here and there towards the smaller girl. “You’re just more graceful than me, (your name).”

       Marisa memorized the details on (your name)’s face, she always found herself staring at her best friend. Was it strange that her heart beat so wildly in her chest whenever they were together? Marisa didn’t quite understand the feelings that bloomed in her for the sweet (hair color) girl

        “Well I made you one, see?” (Your name) gently placed the lavender flower crown on Marisa’s head. (Your name) gave her best friend a bright smile. “You look so pretty in purple.”

        Marisa blushed, the young red head brushed a crimson wave out of her face. She swore her heart would explode from the simple compliment.

       “Not nearly as pretty as you. I don’t think there’s anyone as pretty as you.”

         Even as a child, Marisa meant exactly what she said. (Your name) was the prettiest girl Marisa had ever seen and the only one she had eyes for.

        “You’re so silly, Mari. You act like I’m some kind of princess!” (Your name) squealed when Marisa grabbed her hands and began to press kisses on them. “Mari!”

        “To me, you are the most beautiful princess.” Marisa smiled as she began to press more kisses to (your name)’s hands. “And I’m your loyal knight.”

        “But we’re Orik’s apprentices.”

      The two girls giggled together, their hands linked while they admired the sunset together. 

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        “Of course you little peasants always stick together.” A young noble girl stuck her nose up at (your name) and Marisa while the duo played together in the streets from the window in her fancy blue carriage. The golden family crest of the Phoenix showed off which family she belonged to, Marquis Golding.

     The marchioness’s long golden curls were pulled back behind her head in a half braid while the rest spilled out over her shoulders. “Why don’t you two play elsewhere?”

       “Oh hello, Marchioness Golding.” (Your name) greeted the blonde with a smile, which threw the blonde off. The blonde glanced away, a pinkish tint to her ears. “We were close to the street, weren’t we? Thanks for looking out-“

       “(Your name), she’s making fun of us.” Marisa softly pointed out, the redhead glared at the haughty blonde. She didn’t understand why the blonde insisted on bothering with them. “We’ll go elsewhere, Marchioness Golding.”

        Marissa rose up to her feet and took (your name)‘s hands in hers. The marchioness turned red in the face from the sight. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair that they were able to live freely while she was trapped to live the life of a noble.

      Cressida could only watch as the two left. Her heart clenched when (your name) waved goodbye to her before Marissa tugged her away.

        Was it wrong for Cressida to want (your name)? The girl was oddly sophisticated for a mere peasant… it made Cressida curious.

        Was (your name) hiding something just like her? 

      Not to mention how (your name)’s features were eerily similar to a portrait she’s seen once… but where had Cressida last seen it?

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       Orik smiled at (your name) who fretted ow r an injured bird. Tears in her eyes, her heart ached for the bird that was missing a part of its wing.

       “Now, (your name). With your affinity for healing magic, you can heal things.” Orik softly told the young girl. His wrinkled hands guided hers over the bird. “But you cannot heal what is no longer there.”

         “What do you mean, master?”

        “Wounds can be closed but they may leave scars.” Orik softly told her, the old wizard assisted her in healing the injured bird. “It’s flight feathers will have to grow back once it molts but you were able to reattach the bones. You have limits, my dear.”

       (Your name) smiled at Orik’s teachings. The elder always took time to teach her about healing magic and herbalism.

       “I sense you’ll become a great healer one day.”

       “You think so?”

      “I know so.”

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       “Mari, you can’t keep stealing.” (Your name) chided her friend, the young adult scoffed in response. 

        The years have turned the two of them into adults and Marisa has been on a rebellious streak as of late. The red haired woman now towered over her friend and (your name) was sure Marisa was almost seven feet tall.

      “We have to survive too. Orik doesn’t have much money despite once being the grand wizard.” Marisa grumbled as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest. “The royals don’t care about orphans like us. We could starve for all they care.”

       “But what if they catch you? You could get hurt…” 

       “I can’t  keep up with your skills in magic. You’re going to be a great healer one day and I’m just me… Orik’s ways don’t suit me.” Marisa sighed, the large teen bent down to sit beside (your name) on the grassy hill. “I’m not smart like you…”

       “But I’m sure you could become a knight. Or maybe even a monster hunter. You’re super strong!” (Your name) smiled at her friend, which made Marisa sigh. The redhead shoved the loaf of bread into (your name)’s hand. 

      “Eat your bread. At least make my efforts worth it. I doubt we’ll eat anything this good until we’re done learning from Orik.” Marisa huffed. She draped her arm over (your name)‘s shoulder to pull her closer.

       The two women admired the city lights from below. (Your name)’s eyes sparkle in wonder from how magic had made the lights below shine so brightly.

        “It’s such a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

      Cinnamon colored eyes were directed at (your name), a softness in them that was only reserved for the young woman in front of her. “Yes it is…”

       Marisa rested her head on (your name)‘s, her feelings once more bubbled to the surface like boiling soup. Marisa knew exactly what she felt for the other girl… it was just wondering if (your name) returned even a fraction of what she felt. If they had a chance to be something more than friends…

       Yet it wasn’t something Marisa wanted to chance. She’d rather die than lose her best friend, no… her reason to live.

       In this sick world, her only solace was (your name) and Marisa would rather chop her own foot off with a dull butter knife than let anything happen to the small girl.

     “(Your name)?”

      “Yes?”

        “I’d kill for you.” (Your name) giggled at her friend’s words, the smaller girl not taking what the other woman said seriously. Kill for her? How absurd. 

       “Well, I hope you never have to. I’d hate for you to end up in prison or even on death row.”

       Marisa pressed herself further into (your name), a sad smile on her face. She’d do anything for (your name). Anything.

.

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       “(Your name)?” (Your name) froze when a certain marchioness made her way towards her. Her pale pink skirts held in her hands as she barged into (your name)‘s study.

      Ever since they became teenagers, Cressida Golding bothered her more and more. But rather than her weak attempts at bullying in childhood, Cressida made an attempt to befriend (your name). The golden haired girls cheeks flushed whenever she was around the (hair color) girl and her palms would be sweaty. 

        Yet Cressida made no move to befriend Marisa, only (your name).

       “Would you like to go to a salon with me? I could buy you a dress…” Cressida fiddled with her fingers, her cerulean eyes anxiously glanced at (your name). “Or you could probably fit into some of my old ones… I’ve been growing a lot as of late.”

       “That’s okay, marchioness Golding. Thank you-“

        “It’s just Cressida!” Cressida rasped out, her body trembled in anxiousness. “And I insist. Please?”

          “But I’m just a peasant…” (your name) softly whispered, but Cressida waved her off.

         “No, you’re not! You’re nothing like that red head or the others!” Cressida put her hands over her mouth at her outburst. She hadn’t meant to be so loud and excitable. “I actually found out something rather interesting about you.”

      “What do you mean, Cressida?” Cressida took (your name)’s hands in her clammy ones. A big smile on her face.

       “I’ll tell you my findings if you come to the salon I’m hosting!”

        (Your name) thought about it for a moment before she sighed. She knew Cressida wouldn’t accept no as an answer. The golden haired girl was quite spoiled after all…

         “Okay… I’ll come.” Cressida squealed and pulled (your name) in for a hug. Her cerulean eyes lit up like stars. 

        “I swear you won’t be disappointed, darling!” The blonde then took off with a skip in her step. 

       (Your name) sighed and glanced at her books that laid strewn out all over her desk. Now where did she leave off?

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        A scream escaped Marisa’s mouth when a guard slammed their foot into her ribcage in a dark alleyway. Her plunders strewn all over the alleyway’s floor. Marisa had simply wanted to gift (your name) something nice, it wasn’t even something super expensive. It was just a rose quartz tied together with twine. 

       A twisted smirk crawled on the guard’s face at her anguished expression.

       “Well look who I finally caught! The street rat that my mistress hates.” His hand tangled in Marisa’s short red hair and yanked her head up. “You’re not so tough now, are ya?”

        Marisa vehemently glared at the guard before she launched a wad of spit on his dirty face. The guard threw her to the ground in anger his shirt ripped from the grip she had on him, his hand wiped the spit off his face. The fabric crest of the family he served was clutched tightly in her fist.

       “You’ll pay for that.” Marisa’s eyes widened when the guard drew his sword, the metal menacingly glinted under the streetlights.

       A scream rung throughout the alleyway and then silence.

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     (Your name) frantically ran down the streets. Her head turned every which way in hopes of finding Marisa. Marisa wasn’t home on time and she was never late… 

       (Your name) clutched her cloak tightly to her body in an attempt to comfort herself. She needed to find her friend…

       “Marissa?” (Your name) called out to no avail. And that’s when she saw it… a crumbled body of a certain red head and a pool of blood.

      A scream that would make anyone weep at the strangled sound escaped (your name)’s chest as she launched herself beside her friend. Her small hands rolled over Marisa’s body to see where the wound was… only for horror to crawl down (your name)’s spine.

        The entire left side of Marisa’s face was completely mutilated with cute. The blood seemed never ending while the skin of her left cheek no longer concealed her teeth. And her tongue was cut up as well.

        “W-who did this to you?” (Your name) wept as she did her best to use her magic to heal her friend. “Who hurt you?”

       Her tears felt never ending as she did her best to heal what she could. This half of her friend’s face would more likely be permanently disfigured from this ordeal no matter how good of a healer (your name) was. There just wasn’t  enough left of her face to completely heal it.

      “Mari… oh Mari.” (Your name) sobbed as she held Mari’s body close to her. Marisa was so cold and barely breathing… but she was alive. Thank god… “I’m so sorry, Mari.”

        (Your name) held Marisa close to her, a certain family crest caught (your name)’s eye. The golden Phoenix mocked her.

       “Marquis Golding…”

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.

        Cressida held her sore cheek in shock when (your name) struck her. The smaller woman’s face red with rage, a crumbled family crest was balled up in her fist.

        “You witch!” (Your name) hissed, the crest suddenly thrown at Cressida who sat dumbstruck on the floor. “How dare you have one of your guards attack Marisa… how dare you!”

       “(Y-your name)? What do you mean?” Cressida cried, her eyes filled with tears. Not out of guilt, but out of fear. Fear of (your name) leaving her behind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

        “Don’t pretend you don’t! Your guard hurt Marisa and now… she’ll never be able to live a normal life!” (Your name) felt a sob rack through her body, her hands tightly clutched her chest. “How could you-“

        Creature rose up from the floor and ran towards (your name) until she fell to her knees in front of the young woman. Her hands tightly clutched (your name)’s.

        “I didn’t order him to… I wouldn’t do that.” Cressida began to sob. “I know you care about her… I wouldn’t do that.”

        (Your name) froze when Cressida began to bawl. Fat tears rolled down her pale cheeks as she tightly clutched the skirt of (your name)’s linen dress like a lifeline. 

          “Please don’t abandon me! I swear I didn’t order it! I swear! I swear!” Cressida buried her face in (your name)’s skirt, her tears and snot wet the fabric. “I wouldn’t hurt you!”

        “It’s okay, Cressida. I’m sorry for letting my anger get the best of me.” (Your name) held Cressida’s face in her palms. Guilt washed over her at the welt on Cressida’s face. “I shouldn’t have hurt you-“

         “Don’t apologize! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” Cressida nuzzled her face in (your name)’s soft palms with a sigh. “You’re allowed to be upset! But I’ll take care of it all! Just for you!”

         (Your name) furrowed her brow at the almost euphoric look in Cressida’s teary cerulean eyes. There was something incredibly off about the golden haired woman… but who was she to judge?

        “Okay, Cressida… I believe you.” (Your name) was nearly launched back when Cressida lunged forward to hug her,

          “Thank you! Thank you! I promise I’ll fix everything. Just leave it all to me.” Cressida buried her face in the crook of (your name)’s neck. 

       If only (your name) could see the demented smile on Cressida’s face then she’d know of the danger she was in…

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         The portly guard was thrown into a dungeon. His eyes wide in horror when he saw the young marchioness in the middle of the cell. The other guards quickly locked the door and left the guard alone with the young woman.

       “M-my lady?! Have I offended you in some way?” The guard felt his blood run cold when a deep chuckle escaped Cressida’s lips.

       “You know it’s my lord in private.” The guard bowed his head when he heard bones begin to snap. The guard shivered in pure fear when he felt an icy glare on him. Oh god… he hadn’t mean to upset him. 

        “I’m sorry my lord-“ The guard’s head was suddenly pulled up by the thin strands of his hair. A hauntingly beautiful man now stood before him in place of the marchioness. His cerulean blue eyes cold and unforgiving like the sea. 

       “Do you know what you’ve almost cost me?” The young man angrily hissed. 

       “N-no, my lord-“ the guard’s face was suddenly slammed into the stone floor. A loud, audible crunch rung throughout the empty dungeon. 

           “The throne! I need (your name) for the throne!” The guard’s head was slammed over and over into the ground as the young man had a tantrum. “My beautiful, perfect darling is the lost Duchess of (last name)! If I marry her, an illegitimate child like me could become the crown prince! And you almost screwed it all up because you sliced up her friend’s face!”

         The guard’s face was practically hamburger meet from how mashed it was. A few of the his teeth now missing as he choked on his blood. The golden haired man sighed before dropping the guard to the ground.

         “I just got so lucky my darling is so wonderful and understanding… she even apologized to me after she struck me.” The delusional man suddenly held his body to imitate a hug. “I am so lucky to have stumbled upon her… don’t you think we’ll be beautiful together?”

       The guard could only gurgle and gasp, the portly man struggled to breathe. The blonde sighed in frustration. “An imbecile like you could never understand our love… but she said she’d let me handle it! So we’re not quite done yet, mister guard.”

        The guard was then dragged to be chained to the floor. The young man smiled down at the disoriented guard, his haunting beauty similar to an angel of death.

        The man then snapped his fingers to alert his butler to come over with a cage full of rats. The top of the cage held a metal bowl at the top and a removable tray at the bottom,

       “Prince Chrysanthos. I really do think you’ve outdone yourself.” The butler sighed before he placed the metal cage atop of the guard’s stomach and pulled out the tray so that the rats were now had no metal bottom. Yet they couldn’t escape. 

         “You flatter me, Gerald. I simply wish to be a strict ruler who would do anything for his beloved. My enemies must know not to mess with me or her.” Chrysanthos smiled at Gerald who nodded. The salt and pepper haired man walked over to a small bowl filled with hot coals. 

          “You’re doing a fantastic job, sir.” The butler handed Chrysanthos the bucket. “Would you like to do the honors?”

          “Of course.” Chrysanthos then dumped the hot coals into the bowl atop of the cage. “This is what you get for upsetting my love. Your death will be slow and agonizing as the rats claw through your body to escape the heat.”

        The guard began to loudly scream when he felt the rats scratch and bite at his skin.

         Gerald glanced over at the insane blonde before him. Not a doubt in his mind that Crysanthos was a demon despite his angelic appearance.

             “Do you wish to watch, sir? Or do you want to buy a dress for you darling?”

          The butler remaind stoic when Chrysantho’s mood did a complete 180 degree turn. A bright smile on his angelic features.

         “I would love to. Do you think she’d look beautiful in gold? Or should I perhaps dress her in lighter colors until the engagement?” Chrysanthos sighed dreamily. “My beautiful darling would look good in anything… I can’t wait to see her at my salon.”

        The butler nodded as the two men left the guard behind to suffer his ill fate.

       Chrysanthos babbled the whole way out. Gerald just didn’t understand what it was about that girl that drove the prince so mad.

.

.

.

         (Your name) laid beside Marisa. Her arms wrapped around her friend as Orik frowned at her.

        “She should wake up soon, my dear. You’ve been up for three days now… you can’t let yourself fall apart too.” Orik expressed his worry for his adopted daughter.

        “I just want to be here when she wakes up.” (Your name) whispered softly, her hands stroked Marisa’s scarred face. “I want her to know I’m here… that I’ll always be here.”

        Orik sighed but he understood her pain. “I won’t stop you but why don’t you just lay beside her?”

       Orik snapped his fingers, a blanket now magically placed around her shoulders. The old man wrapped the blanket snuggly around (your name)’s body.

         The young woman rested her body beside Marisa’s. The two women curled into one another. 

         As the young woman finally fell into the clutches of sleep, she failed to notice Marisa was now awake. Her cinnamon eyes softened at the eye bags and tear stained face of her friend.

      Marisa struggled to speak, her throat felt so dry… Marisa went to sit up, her cinnamon colored eyes wide in horror at her reflection. Her whole body trembled at the hideous scars on her face. Oh god… it wasn’t a nightmare.

         Marisa’s fingers traced over the ugly lines of scars on the left side of her face. Tears fell from her eyes as reality washed over her. She was ugly now…

      “She did her best to heal what was left of your face.” Orik softly told Marisa from the door way. “I think she did an amazing job from what she said was left of you.”

       Marisa glanced down at (your name) who laid curled up beside her. Her small hands tightly clutched Marisa’s shirt.

        “Marisa. I have been quite lenient toward your rebellious behavior but I think it’s time you start to do something with you life.” Orik told the young woman, the elderly man made his way over. “I have a friend in the north who could train you in the way of the sword.”

    “But I… I can’t leave (your name) behind. Especially with that stupid marchioness running about.”

       “Who said I wouldn’t send the both of you?” Orik softly asked. “I may be old, but I’m willing to relocate to get away from that noble… they terrify me.”

       Marisa paused, the muscular teen cast a glance at the sleeping (your name). A sunkissed finger hesitantly brushed a stray strand of hair out of (your name)’s face.

         “If she wants to… we’ll move.”

       “Excellent. Let me know what she says when she wakes up.” Orik smiled at the two young women. “We can leave in a week’s time at the earliest.”

       Marisa glanced down at (your name) who clutched onto her body like a koala bear. A soft smile graced her lips as she leaned down to press a kiss on (your name)’s forehead.

        “Thank you… I owe you my life once again.” Marisa pressed her forehead against (your name)’s while her arms snaked around (your name)’s body. “You’re always saving me when I’m supposed to be protecting you… I swear I’ll become stronger and I’ll be able to provide us a better life.”

         Marisa laid beside (your name) until she succumbed to sleep as well. Their limbs tangled and their hearts full from one another’s company.

.

.

.

       Orik did his best to keep a stoic expression when marchioness Golding visited their home bright and early. A large, neatly wrapped gift sat in her butler’s arms as the two nodded at Orik.

       “Is (your name) home?” Cressida asked, a giddiness in her voice. “I brought her dress for the salon today.”

       Orik frowned but relented on letting Cressida inside. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the golden terror, she was well known for her volatile temper.

         “(Your name)?!” Cressida sing songed the small teen’s name in hopes she’d come running over to her. “I’m here to take you to the salon! I have your dress-“

         Cressida froze when she saw (your name) fast asleep in her bed. The small girl curled up under her various blankets, her chest softly rose with each breath. She looked like a fairy…

       Cressida slowly approached the bed until she sat on the end of it. She outstretched her pale hand to touch (your name)‘s cheek but a large hand stopped her.

         Cressida nearly screamed at the sight of Marisa’s disfigured face. The scars made her even more fearsome to gaze at.

         “What on earth are you doing?!” Marissa hissed like a snake, her cinnamon eyes narrowed at the golden haired noblewoman. An overwhelming desire to protect the unconscious (your name) consumed the redhead. 

       “I was just going to wake her was all.” Cressida snatched her wrist back from Marisa’s brutish grip. “You don’t have to be such a brute all the time.”

        Marisa scoffed and crossed her muscular arms over her chest. She stuck her nose up at Cressida, Cressida’s face twisted in disgust at the prominent dorsal hump on Marisa’s large nose. Why did Marisa look more masculine when Cressida was Chrysanthos? 

         “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a creep.”

        (Your name) stirred awake, the young woman glanced between her two friends who seemed to be about to argue.

      “Good morning-“ (your name) almost screamed when Cressida launched at her to try to hug her but Marisa pushed the blonde over so the blonde onto the end of the bed instead.   The blonde landed with a loud thud.

       “What was that for?! You could have ruined my dress-“ Cressida quickly calmed herself. She didn’t want to scare her darling away… “I’m here to take you away to the salon, (your name)!”

        “Oh… that is today isn’t it?” (Your name) whispered. She had forgotten all about it since she’s been so preoccupied worrying about Marisa. Did that make her an awful friend? “I’m sorry for not being ready, Cressida.”

         “No, it’s alright! I bought you a dress.” Cressida leapt up from the bed and scurried over the Gerald. The blonde practically snatched the box from his hands and handed it to (your name). “Here! Open it!”

      (Your name) hesitantly opened the box to reveal a beautiful blush colored dress. Her hands grasp the straps to admire it in awe.

        “Oh wow… it’s beautiful, Cressida.” (Your name) smiled at her friend who blushed a bright pink. 

        “Let’s put it on and if we leave now, my maids can do your hair and makeup.” Cressida beamed, much to Marisa’s dismay. (Your name) couldn’t possibly have agreed to hang out with this haunted porcelain doll wannabe.

         (Your name) smiled and rose up from the bed with the dress in her arms. The young woman turned to her two friends.

        “I’ll need help with this…”

        The two women glanced at each other before they rushed over to help (your name). The young woman chuckled at how eager her friends were to help.

.

.

.

         (Your name) twirled around in the blush colored dress while Cressida and Marisa admired her. How could someone be so beautiful?

       “You look beautiful…” Cressida muttered softly, her cerulean eyes filled with admiration. She wanted to burn this image into her brain forever…

        Marisa on the other hand was speechless. Marisa’s throat became dry like sand, her hands now sweaty, and her pupils dilated at the sight in front of her eyes. It took everything in Marisa not to pull (your name) in for a kiss- wait… a kiss? Where did that thought come from?

       Marisa shook her head, her cheeks warm when she noticed (your name)’s eyes on her. Oh no… she hadn’t meant to stare for so long.

         “Y-you look beautiful.” 

       “Thank you.” (Your name) thanked her friends for their compliment, Cressida’s sharp eyes soon realized (your name) didn’t have proper footwear… she’d have to buy her some.

      “Let’s be on our way. I’ll pick you some shoes out and you’ll be all set.”

        Marisa frowned when Cressida stole (your name) away. She hated Cressida and not just because Cressida held an obvious torch for (your name). No. There was something off about the golden haired girl.

         And Marisa’s gut has never been proven wrong… but she couldn’t put her finger on what it could be…

[rafecameronsslxt]

Shame

Soft!Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: The people of France take your relationship with your husband to be described as loss of affection, but when you confront Vincent he becomes angry at you. Vincent takes his time to apologize with sex.

Warnings: SMUT, dry humping, p in v, fem receiving, and arguing.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Masterlist

France was a heavily ill-rumoured country but had the rumours of your relationship with the newly crowned Marquis been as bad as the mass was saying? That we looked estranged and angry anytime we were out together in public, which had been rare considering John Wick was running about killing, and we had security every hour of the day, sometimes even becoming a little too invasive.

   Our bedroom was remarkably dark. It was fitting and not what I had wanted, but Vincent decided I had no say. The people we paid did as he said, walls black with a pretty shade of gold, an elegant crystal chandelier, and a king-sized bed with a headboard made of the finest materials. As a natural, we also got black silk sheets that melted your body to the bed until you never wanted to get up. 

   Our relationship wasn’t exceedingly…estranged. Vincent never seemed to have time for you anymore. His wife couldn’t fit into his schedule, and when you tried to talk with Vincent about the situation plaguing your mind, he’d get angry and shout at you for any reason because he locks his feelings up, not daring to tell you his emotions. 

   Tonight you were feeling explicitly irritated at Vincent, making it more than apparent when you got ready for bed beside him in the massive bathroom, sighing, grumbling, or throwing angry glances his way that he wouldn’t acknowledge. So instead, he heads to his study like every other night. 

   You walked the large hall in a rose gold silk bralette and bottoms with a slit on both sides of the thigh but in a tasteful fashion. You walked in unannounced, fed up with the formalities with your own husband. His dark green eyes glanced up at you and quickly returned to the papers he was sorting out on the polished wooden desk.

   Your hands massage his shoulders softly like you’d done a million times before and attempts to leave marks on his neck, but he shrugs you off quicker than expected. You try gliding your hands under his robe, feeling his bare chest. “What do you need?” Finally, Vincent says something. You sit on the papers, seeing his face turn with outrage. “I need you.” You say, needy, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose. 

   Vincent picks you up by your thighs and drops you to your feet by the door. He plasters a fake smile at you and opens the swarthy wooden door. “No. I’m not leaving Vincent. You never make time for me. You don’t even touch me when we sleep in the same bed!” You raise your voice at him, being the only person who can actually shout at him, but he can get louder when he wants to. 

   His face falters at the change in your voice, and a pout becomes a complaint on your face, lips puffed out and looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “You always have to be so ungrateful for everything. I give you anything you want, and this is how I get thanked, sweetheart!” Vincent shouts at you, backing you into the railing outside his study. You flinch at his loud words in your ears, but they don’t just stop. He keeps going. “I’m trying to protect you and figure out John Wick before things fly off the handle. Do you want to go-” He stops mid-sentence, regret palpable on his face. “You’re going to do what. Kill me? Asshole, I can’t believe you right now.” You force his hands away from you, pacing back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut in his face, but he slams it harder, echoing throughout our home. 

   “You always act like a child!” His voice reverberated around the room. I throw my hands in the air. “It’s always me, Vincent! If you would just tell me what’s wrong with you. I mean, I get it, baby. You're not good with feelings, but please.” You were desperate, pleading with him to give in because you couldn’t handle another argument. The tears I was holding back slipped out slowly. He motions for you to sit on his lap as he glides a hand through his unusually dishevelled hair.

   Vincent’s complexion becomes soft. He kisses your plump red lips lightly and leans his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry.” You nod at his delicate words that you get to lavish in. This was almost new, a foreign feeling you’d missed. You softly grind your hips onto his. Vincent lets a deep chuckle flow into your ears. He’s got a little smile adorning his face while Vincent’s hands take off the silky bralette, but his tender lips take their time kissing your collarbone, nape of your neck (surely to leave pretty purple circles), and boobs, like he was re-remembering your body meter by meter. 

   His lips connect to your nipples, sucking on them and tongue running over your now extremely sensitive boobs while your hips move faster, feeling his hard-on pressing against your clit. You became so entranced at the moment that you started speaking French. “Je t’aime tellement.” You moan out into his ear. (I love you so much)

   Vincent hums out in agreement with you. He stops your hips, and you look at him, confused. His green eyes had brightened with the happiness you took advantage of before he’d been crowned. “Tu m’as manqué, ma chérie.” His face was as serious as ever, and his irises had a tinge of sparkle when you hid your face in the crook of his neck. (You are missing from me, sweetheart, or I’ve missed you, sweetheart)

   The spark left when he flipped your back to the silky black sheets, his fingers wrapping around the waistband of both your shorts and panties, pulling them off eagerly. Vincent’s hands run over the smooth shaved skin of your body, smelling of jasmine and lavender, along with the essential oils used to keep clear skin. He takes a deep breath and begins kissing your thighs, each delicate kiss placed until his mouth reaches where you need him the utmost. 

   His tongue glides up and down your slit, teasing you, but the littlest touch articulates soft whimpers falling from your parted mouth while he looks into your eyes. Two fingers slip inside of you with ease, and then his mouth sucks on your clit. Vincent had never been a soft man, nor had he ever claimed to be, but when he was, it was the best pleasure you’d ever experienced, his soft French accent rich in your ear, whispering sweet nothings and making up for the things he’s done. 

   His fingers pick up the pace, but not enough to be considered rough, and you were more than satisfied to be treated gently after his harshness this past week. His tongue was doing overtime because of the flicking and suctioning, and fingers moving in and out had your thighs clenching around his head, eyes rolling to the back of your head, loud moans resounding from wall-to-wall back to Vincent's ears, making him harder than he already was. You were on the edge of release when his mouth and fingers left your body, emitting a groan. You hadn’t noticed he was naked until now. His plunging v-line and defined abdomen and his thin body are surprisingly muscular too, as you’ve been manhandled more times than you could count, especially when he thrives off inflicting pain on others around him, so the soft side of him threw you off sometimes.

   He kisses you passionately despite tasting yourself simultaneously, pulling you by your thighs, and you feel his tip enter you, a gasp escaping your mouth. “It’s been this long?” His sentence is terse, and you nod, arms being thrown around his broad shoulders. Then, he bottoms out in you, and with pleasure comes pain because as much as it felt good, it’d take a minute to get comfortable. He moves in and out of you slowly, but even that was hard as you had been so tight that it was a problem to move, but eventually, he got into the rhythm, which was harsher than anticipated. 

   Your pedicured nails scratch his back, leaving red streaks that would satisfy the damage you have done to him, to remember tonight. His calloused fingers circle your clit quickly, and you don’t think you’d last another second. “I’m coming!” Tears fall from your eyes out of pleasure, and you hear his soft whispers, but he continues to thrust into you, becoming overstimulated. You then feel his hot cum cover your velvety insides. His grunts and curses fell from his kissable plump lips that you did kiss, and he pulled out, feeling his cum drip down your thighs. 

   Vincent enters the bathroom and returns with a damp washcloth, cleaning you up. He softly lies beside you, his arms around your waist, leaving no room for air, but you just wanted him to be close, and he was for once. It felt euphoric to have your husband back, kissing your shoulder until your eyes fall heavy and sleep carries you peacefully.

[multific]

Being Vincent de Gramont's Wife - Headcanons

Warnings: smut

You were much like him

A sadist hungry for power

He met you through Winston when he sent you to take care of a problem in London with him

Winston said you were his best

Better than John Wick

And you didn't disappoint

Working with you was so easy

As if you two have been working together for years

Vincent originally didn’t want your help

But seeing the potential in you, you proved him wrong

You were a true professional

While you did enjoy teasing Vincent or his men, as soon as the situation got real, you were in focus mode

And that really got Vincent's attention

Your focus

Your talent and determination

You were good

Really really good at what you were doing

One evening, he invited you for a celebration

Celebration for your win

And Vincent certainly didn't expect the wine-red dress you decided to wear

The one that showed off your curves perfectly

It awakened a side of Vincent he didn't even know existed

He soon found out that his hand fit perfectly to every single curve on your body

Neither of you was patient enough

It became a night of true celebration

After that, Vincent asked for your help more and more often

Soon, you were married

The couple everyone feared

The Marquis and his wife

Vincent absolutely loved the fear people felt whenever they realized you two were after them

You were unstoppable

The two of you had an effect on each other

An effect terrible for your target but amazing for you two

Vincent often commissioned matching clothes for the two of you

You were a classy woman

Even the way you held yourself spoke volumes

The way everyone’s eyes were on you as soon as you entered a room

Vincent had the same effect

You loved the finer things in life

And the finest thing was possibly Vincent himself

He was tall, handsome, powerful and incredibly skilled

Skilled both in combat and in bed

First, you were convinced your marriage was about power and fear

Fear, which your name put into people

But lately, you weren't so sure

Vincent was rather gentle with you always but his eyes never changed

But nowadays they did

He seems to be smiling more when you are there

And you also noticed a change in yourself

You always loved to cook

So, whenever you did, you would always make sure that Vincent would also receive a plate

Sometimes you would even serve him food yourself to make sure he eats

Then lately, he would come to the dining room

Knowing your schedule well, and when you ate, he was there for every meal

Sometimes you two talked, sometimes silence filled the room, either way it was comfortable

Sex also changed

It used to be all about control and getting each other off

But lately, you noticed it became more about the touches, the kisses and the slow and deep movements

You never let him cum inside before

But now, you found yourself craving for the feeling of him finishing inside

You loved how close it made the two of you feel

And soon, you couldn't deny it any longer.

The two of you were in love

And you both knew it

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[twistedbloodstain]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[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

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Tea and Music

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut!, language, mild begging, choking, unprotected sex, use of “good girl”

Summary: Part two of Poetry in Motion! These are the events that happen after Marquis meets our ballerina reader.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read Part one HERE!!!

Taglist: @jiawalker

The limo crushed the small stones under its tires as it drove along the white gravel path. The entire estate was completely covered in trees and green once we passed through the golden gates. I couldn't see the sides of the gate from the car, so I assumed his estate extended for miles.

Not a blade of grass was out of place.

I would have flirted with Vincent sooner if I had known he was concealing a mansion.

Our conversation two nights ago was extremely straightforward. He introduced himself, and I asked him one question before he insisted on speaking with me in person.

His address was on a street I'd never heard of before. I thought that perhaps it was in the Paris slums. His fancy suits and elegant demeanor were just a ruse to convince people he was wealthy.

But, alas, he lives in a mansion. Who would’ve guessed?

As the car approached the large front doors, I tried to hide my surprise. His house was something out of a movie. To take it all in, I had to turn my head completely left and right. It possessed at least three levels. It was made of lovely white vintage brick and black shingles. Two poles supported an enormous balcony on opposite sides of the large double front doors.There were dozens of tall arched windows. The architecture was inspired by the French countryside, but it was elevated to the highest level.

It appeared vintage and loved, but not worn.

“Alright madame, we are here.”

My trance was broken by the posh driver.

“Oh, yes.”

He opened the door for me, offering his hand to ensure that I would not be inconvenienced in the slightest.

I could grow accustomed to this type of treatment.

I hoisted myself up by grasping his smooth palm.

“Have a pleasant visit, madame.”

He spoke with a classy accent. His elegance, however, couldn't compete with Vincent's. The elderly driver jumped back into the driver's seat and began bustling away, rocks crunching beneath the tires.

I cocked my head upwards, hesitant. I could feel nerves brewing within my stomach. The butterflies were flying free. I took a deep breath, steadying my mind.

I honed in on the rustling of the trees, waiting until the butterflies had completely dissipated.

I couldn’t believe I was about to enter the home of a man I had just met.

I knew his name.

I knew he liked ballet.

I knew where he lived.

And, that’s it.

I climbed the few steps leading to the glass double doors.

Should I knock?

No, he was expecting me.

I gently pushed open the door. The hinges didn't creak in the least.

The doors opened to reveal a large room with white marble floors and a double staircase that swirled to the top floor. The banisters were made of gold, the dark wood walls were covered in expensive-looking paintings, and each room was separated by a large, open arch.

“Hello? I’m here!”

The waves of my voice echoed around the large, nearly empty room. I felt dwarfed by the high ceilings.

“Welcome.”

my heart skipped a beat. Vincent appeared out of nowhere, sauntering through the archway on my left, hands in pockets.

He remained silent, waiting for me to break the tension.

“Uh-Thank you for having me… your house is beautiful.”

As the gravity of the situation became clear, my tone became somewhat shaky. Vincent gave a small smile.

“Thank you very much. I have quite a few estates-“

Woah, woah, woah. A few estates? As in more than one?

“But this one is by far my favorite. It’s lavish, and quiet.”

The trees gently rustled. In the distance, birds chirped. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“See? Nothing. No sounds except those of nature.”

My knees shook. Those two previous statements felt like one big, blatant sexual innuendo. I hoped that sex wasn't the sole reason for having me in this lovely estate that just so happened to have no neighbors for miles.

He leaned against the wooden arch, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dress pants. Vincent furrowed his brow as he observed my concern.

“Please, don’t be worried. I know I was just given the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance. But, I assure you, I possess a sophisticated character.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

“Come.”

He said this as he stepped away from the arch, motioning for me to follow him into the next room.

“I have something I believe you will enjoy.”

I returned his stare. His beautiful eyes shone with warmth. He seemed to have changed slightly now that I was in his house. He appeared to be... more at ease. Neither his gaze nor his tone indicated any discomfort. He was no longer concerned with maintaining any sort of facade.

I couldn't bring myself to be afraid of him.

I smiled.

“Alright.”

My short heels clacked against the marble. As I strolled past him, I captured his familiar scent and was overcome with nostalgia.

The room I entered was significantly smaller than the one prior. Rather than being adorned in paintings, there was merely one green landscape above the unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely covered in wooden shelves, each of which was crammed to the brim. When I looked closer, I noticed that each section was filled with vinyl records. Some are still wrapped in plastic, while others have clearly been loved for years.

“Oh wow! You have quite the collection!”

I exclaimed as I ran my fingers along the spines of various records. Marquis laughed, amused by my intense interest.

“Oh wow!”

I had to use a surprising amount of force to pry one of the vinyls off the shelf as it was jammed into a completely full rack.

“You have the music from Giselle!”

Vincent strolled over to me, leaning over my shoulder to observe what had captured my attention. It was a record, with a lady and man engaged in dance. The lady wore a blouse and bodice, while the man donned tights and a decorated top.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

His hot breath cascaded across my face and neck as he inquired. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he had placed his frame directly behind mine.

“Yes, I do. I was in it a long time ago. And, ever since it’s been one of my favorites.”

“Ah, you were in it?”

I flipped the vinyl to the back, reading each track and reminiscing.

“Yes, I was Giselle.”

“But of course you were.”

I scoffed, dismissing his high opinions of me.

“It really was not that impressive. It was a small community theater, and it was years ago before I decided to pursue ballet professionally.”

“It makes little difference where you do it. I'm sure you danced as well as someone from the Opéra National de Paris. Your talent is just as visible in a small theater as it is in the world's largest.”

I pushed my finger between two vinyls to create a gap so I could slip the record back into its original position.

“You flatter me.”

Vincent dragged his fingertips along the spines. As he did so, I fixed my attention along his veiny digits, my brain beginning to slip into places it hadn't been in a long time. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to return to the present. Vincent drew his gaze across the records, studying them and searching for a specific item.

“Ah!”

He discovered what he was looking for.

“Swan Lake, another one of my favorites.”

He pulled it from the shelf and began to study it.

“Tchaikovsky's music is a work of art. He manipulates the instruments, allowing them to move in a poetic manner. It truly is unparalleled.”

He cocked his head to the side, meeting my eyes.

“Do you enjoy this ballet?”

He raised his brows, inviting me to respond. I shuffled towards his hot body, nodding.

“Yes, of course, it’s a classic.”

This cover depicted a woman bending over a lake, with a swan at her side. Beautiful blues were used to paint the entire cover.

“One of my dream roles is the swan queen.”

Vincent's lanky fingers pried the record's cover apart, and he slid the vinyl into his palm.

“One day, that role will be yours. I have no doubt about it.”

He handled the record with extreme grace and care. Despite being a large and rather intimidating man, his touch was featherlight. He opened a small cabinet located in the middle of the shelves with his opposite hand, revealing a beautiful maroon record player.

“And when you appear as the swan queen, it will be your role for the rest of your life. The audience will know instantaneously that no performance before or after yours will compare.”

Vincent placed the needle on the record's edge. The sound of a rich oboe filled the entire room. He placed his hands on his hips and viewed the black circle spin in a circle. The atmosphere became cozy and inviting. Despite being in a secluded mansion in the middle of the French countryside, I felt oddly at home. My heartbeat was regular.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you drink tea?”

He inquired.

I was so enthralled by Vincent's lovely figure that I had to shake myself awake when he spoke.

“Oh! Yes, of course. I love tea.”

Vincent unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his sleeves up to reveal lovely veins dancing across his forearms. I gulped, my face growing hotter as butterflies began to hatch within my lower abdomen.

“Would you care to drink tea with me on the porch as we indulge in this lovely music?”

I nodded, unable to hide the grin playing on the corners of my mouth.

“I would like that very much.”

-

Vincent brought out a large silver tray, atop which was a lovely china set with pink flowers and gold stems.

“I would expect a wealthy man like you to have help. Rich men don’t make their own tea.”

I said, my tone slightly mocking. Vincent chuckled, plopping down onto the cream colored cushions.

“I don't usually make my own tea. But I specifically requested that we spend the day alone. The bustle of people detracts from the peaceful energy.”

I put a sugar cube in one of the adorable cups and poured tea on top, watching the sugar break and dissolve.

I picked up the saucer and leaned back, my body relaxing against the plush cushions. I had a fantastic view. My back was to the house, leaving the entire garden open for inspection. The green stretched as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a few healthy trees. The property had a gray gravel path that twisted and turned. At the horizon, the gentle hill of the land met the flawless blue sky.

The scenery was lovely. I wish I knew how to paint.

My hair was tousled by a gentle breeze. The soothing music wafted through the house, reaching my ears as a mere whisper.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the cozy energy as I sipped my tea. The steaming liquid poured down my throat, warming me from within.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

I rested the cup in my lap.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I feel like we talk so much about me.”

I said, chuckling slightly.

Vincent sipped his tea while crossing his legs and gazing out at the horizon. His gorgeous side profile was highlighted by the gentle glow of the sun.

“My life is… not very interesting.”

His demeanor had transformed. Instead of being charming, he had become aloof.

“Oh, I’m sure your life is plenty interesting. I mean, come on, this house is ginormous! What do you do?”

Vincent grit his teeth, avoiding the question.

“I made all of my money in real estate.”

He returned my gaze, his fondness restored.

“Oh! That sounds interesting.”

I took another sip of my delicious tea.

“You must’ve gotten extremely lucky.”

He flashed me a tight smile.

“Yes, absolutely. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be where I am now.”

The birds in the distance chirped peacefully, blending with the music to create a cohesive energy that flowed through my being.

“Please, tell me if I am crossing any boundaries with this question.”

I perked up. He had piqued my interest.

“However, you are a very attractive woman. And you are constantly expressing yourself through the arts. I find it difficult to believe you don't have suitors flocking to you at all times.”

I gulped, my gaze fixed on the tea in my lap.

“Well, honestly, it’s difficult to keep a relationship when you’re constantly either in the theater, or searching for your next opportunity. The little free time I have almost never lines up with the free time of others.”

He fixed his gaze on me, listening intently to every word I said. I'd never had a conversation with a man who was so enthralled by me.

“I’ve had relationships, but it's difficult to make them stick. Lately, I’ve kinda given up. It’s stressful, y’know?”

Vincent hummed.

“Yes, I can imagine.”

He sipped his tea one last time, leaning back completely to display his stunning neck. He leaned forward and placed the china cup atop its saucer before assuming his previous position.

"Well, with me, you never have to worry about that, ma chérie." My few important obligations rarely interfere with my personal life. And, if they do, I promise to commit to our relationship and not let it fall through the cracks."

His dedication surprised me. I raised my brows.

“Well, that is very kind of you. I appreciate the reassurance.”

“That is, if pursuing a relationship with me is something that entices you.”

His statement piqued my interest. I suppose I hadn't considered the question, "What are we?" I was definitely interested in pursuing a relationship with him, despite only having become acquainted a few days ago. I felt a genuine connection, and I'd be a fool to pass up this opportunity.

Also, the reality that he was filthy rich drew me to him.

I finished the sweet tea, placing it on the black wire coffee table.

“Yes, I believe I would be interested in that.”

I gave him a genuine smile, which he returned.

“Good, I am glad to hear that.”

He folded his hands and tucked them into his lap, his gaze following. He was deep in thought, as if caught between reality and his thoughts. Vincent came to after what seemed like an eternity. He returned his gaze to mine. His attention had been drawn to a new emotion. He was looking at me with calculating eyes, as if he was carefully pondering what to say next.

This was unusual for him, as he always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy when I say this, but I have been admiring you for a while.”

To be honest, I didn't mind. And I didn't think he was creepy at all for expressing his admiration for me.

“In all honesty, I’m flattered. The way I see it, I wouldn’t put myself on the stage if I was afraid of extreme admiration. I mean, that is kind of the goal of a performer. Y’know, to make people fall in love with the performance.”

Vincent nodded, his smile widening. He was pleased with my response.

“I recall seeing you perform for the first time. It was about two years ago, in Coppélia. You played a minor role, but your beauty captivated me, and the more I sought you out, the more I fell in love.”

There was something sensual about the thought of Vincent admiring me from afar for years. It all seemed so forbidden, him watching me from a box, carefully calculating the best time to ask me out.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you ask me out sooner?”

Vincent shrugged.

“I assumed you were in a relationship. I tried to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. Then I didn't see you at the Opéra national de Paris for a year. My job was particularly demanding at that time. It was best if I concentrated solely on that. So I didn't go looking for you. I assumed that chapter of my life had come to an end. Then I notice you're performing in La Bayadère. And I knew that whatever force governs our universe had given me the opportunity to become your acquaintance.”

I couldn’t stop my face from breaking into a grin. I’ll admit, it felt insanely good to be admired by someone.

“Are you a nostalgic person?”

Yes, extremely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, rising to his feet.

“In that case, I have one more thing I think you would like to see.”

I followed him through the house. If I didn’t have him, I would undoubtedly be lost. Each lavish hallway felt as if it extended for miles. I followed, and followed, and followed. Until eventually we reached a pair of black double doors. They were covered in beautiful flower designs. Vincent turned the golden knobs, pushing the doors open to reveal… a bedroom?

Wow.

It was a nice bedroom, to be sure. The floors were tan wood, and the walls were a dark brown color. A large, black chandelier hung from the ceiling with an expensive crystal thread. The bedframe, curtains, and dresser with a large mirror all looked like they were plucked from the queen's bedroom.

In fact, the whole place felt like it belonged to a king. The gold accents, intricate details, and visibly expensive fabrics all gave me the impression that I was in Buckingham Palace.

Vincent headed over to his dresser, which was located on the opposite side of the room as the bed. He began rummaging through various objects, searching for something.

“Ah! Here it is! I knew I kept it!”

He gave me... a leaflet? No, it's a program. It was the program from my first performance ever at the Opera Nacional de Paris, Coppélia. My eyes shot open.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you kept this!”

I flipped through it, reading the names and contemplating all the wonderful people I'd had the pleasure of working with.

“Of course I kept it.”

I raised my eyes to him. He smiled, pleased that I had found enjoyment in this little bit of nostalgia.

“Um-”

I began.

“I-I don’t mean to take your memories from you.”

I said with a small laugh.

“But, would you mind if I kept this?”

“But of course! There is no need for me to keep a silly little booklet now that I have had the pleasure of meeting the object of my affection.”

We shared a moment of peaceful, happy silence.

“Besides, if it makes you happy, I'll gladly give it to you. We've decided to pursue a relationship. So, it is my responsibility to do everything in my power to please you.”

His gaze darted to my lips before returning to my eyes, implying something taboo.

His eyes grew dark. My posture became stiff. Vincent took a large step towards me, and I had to tilt my head almost completely backwards to look him in the eyes.

I was hit with a wave of déjà vu. I was no longer on the streets of Paris, but rather in Vincent's bedroom. This time, there was nothing preventing us from delving head first into our desires.

He cupped my cheek, running his calloused thumb over my cheekbone. My breath caught in my throat. My lower abdomen was in knots, more from anticipation than from nerves. There wasn't much that could happen on the dark streets of Paris. But suddenly everything was possible and within reach. All I had to do was reach out and grab them.

“The relationships you’ve been in… have any of them had the pleasure of…”

His voice trailed off, beckoning me to finish the thought.

I gulped, a lump forming in my throat.

“No.”

My voice quivered as I felt overpowered by his pressing gaze.

Vincent tutted crispy.

“Pity.”

He stated, his voice lowering to a sensuous whisper. I envisioned him whispering sweet nothings into my ear while thrusting mercilessly into my tight cunt.

My stomach flipped.

My knees shook.

All of the blood in my body rushed to my core.

Wetness began to pool in my panties.

I adjusted my weight uncomfortably, anticipating Vincent's next move.

He leaned forward, his lips inches away from mine. I desperately wanted to break the tension by pressing my mouth to his, thereby beginning the downward spiral of pleasure. However, my train of thought was derailed when I felt Vincent’s opposite hand glide up my thigh.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sighing in pleasure as his digits swiftly located my clothed clit. He tenderly massaged my sensitive bud. The subtle sensation was utterly euphoric. My head bowed forward, my hands anxiously clutching his white dress shirt.

Vincent jerked my head upwards, forcing my misty eyes to lock with his lust blown pupils.

“You’re already so wet, ma chérie. And I have barely even touched you.”

His velvety accent became 10 times more seductive now that it had fallen an octave.

“Oh, it will be so wonderful to watch you come undone.”

He pressed his plush lips to my jugular, applying gentle kisses to my neck as he continued to draw figure eights onto my clothed clit. I threw my arms around his neck, hanging onto his strong frame as my knees threatened to give out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your thighs and taste your sweet little cunt.”

I couldn’t handle the erotic tone combined with the featherlight touches to my clit. It was far too much for my touch starved body to handle. needed something. I was ravenous for his mouth, his fingers, his cock. I wanted so badly to be destroyed by him, to be given such pleasure that I fear coming back to reality.

“Vincent.”

I said between heavy breaths.

“Yes ma chérie?”

My jaw hung upon, mouth unable to form coherent sentences.

“P-Please. I need you-I need you so bad.”

Vincent drew back, his lips slamming into mine. Our mouths matched like puzzle pieces. We were so glorious together that I swear I could hear angels singing in perfect harmony.

“What would you like me to do to you ma belle, hm?”

He said in between fiery kisses.

“Make me cum, Vincent, please.”

His tongue slid into my mouth, giving me a fleeting taste of his passion before he quickly yanked it back. I was flustered. Our connection had been severed, and I was unsure as to why.

Vincent grasped my chin, forcing me to keep my head still.

His hair was struggling to remain neat. The single, dangling strand was a great metaphor for his once well-kept demeanor now crumbling before my eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you cum.”

He demanded.

Mt jaw quivered. His hand had retreated from my core and now lay atop the swell of my hip.

“P-Please Vincent. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

“Oh, ma chérie, I know you can do better than that.”

He placed his lips to mine, swiftly reigniting the flame before suffocating it once more.

“Be my good girl and beg.”

I locked gazes with Vincent, feeling his sexual energy course through my body in waves.

“Please-“

I began, my desire somewhat strangling the words within my throat.

“Please Vincent… Please, I need you to make me cum.”

I brought my palms to his chest, attempting to quickly unbutton his dress shirt. Unfortunately, my hands were far too jittery and the buttons were far too small for me to make any significant progress.

“What exactly do you want ma belle, hm? Tell me.”

His velvety accent wafted through me whenever he spoke, adding to the wetness that had begun to pool in my panties.

“Please, please. I need you.”

Thankfully, the sexual tension had subsided just enough for me to compose meaningful sentences.

“Please, please, I need you. I need your mouth between my legs. I need-I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please, please make me cum it’s all I can think about.”

A devious smirk spread across Vincent’s face.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He connected our lips, reigniting the raging fire of desire that burned between us. Vincent hoisted me off the floor, his large hands traveling up my short sundress and resting against my ass. He carried me with ease, his hands gentle but his lips aggressive.

Vincent tossed me onto the bed with little regard for tenderness. However, I was barely impacted by the blow, as the mattress quickly suppressed and conformed to my physique.

I lay, my gaze fixed upwards towards Vincent’s lanky frame. The dim yet sensual lights foregrounded the sharp curvatures of his face. His long digits located his top button and he began to leisurely undo his shirt without breaking eye contact.

Suddenly, I became aware that my dress had ridden up my thighs, exposing my evident desire. I grasped the hem, pushing it downwards in a futile attempt to conceal my yearning. Vincent ceased his movements, crawling over the end of the bedframe with haste.

His hand wrapped around my wrist, pinning my hand above my head.

My eyes darted upwards, the breath hitching in my throat as I perceived his close proximity. Vincent’s previously quintessential appearance was slowly dissolving. A few strands of hair had broken loose from their original location and were now dangling aimlessly above his brow. Furthermore, his shirt was halfway undone, exposing his prominent collarbone and somewhat highlighting his toned chest.

“Don’t cover up for me, ma belle.”

He murmured, his sultry accent sending a wave of desire to my lower abdomen. My cunt throbbed.

“I want nothing more than to see every inch of you.”

Vincent lodged his thigh between my legs, his clothed knee grazing against my hot core. I jolted, a wave of heat coursing through my body. My back arched instinctively, mouth falling open as I involuntarily ground my hips against his thigh in an effort to increase friction.

Unfortunately, he revoked his leg before I was able to procure further pleasure. His free hand followed the soft curve of my side, sending shivers down my spine. My body became cold with anticipation. Goosebumps rose along my skin.

Vincent’s calloused fingertips grazed against my clothed clit. Heat radiated from my wet core as I squeezed my eyes shut. My brow furrowed as he began to slowly draw figure eights onto my clit.

“Ah, you are so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

His soft lips connected to my jugular, peppering gentle kisses down my neck.

“I’ve thought about this moment for a long while.”

With his hands required to support his weight as he descended, his powerful clasp released my wrist. I entangled my fingers in his silky hair, further ruining his pristine image.

“Although I pride myself on maintaining a certain level of class, I can’t deny that I’ve often thought about how satisfying it would be to bring you immense pleasure.”

He continued to press his lips against my hot skin, his face now level with my clothed breasts.

Vincent leaned back on his knees. He dragged his eyes up and down my frame, running his tongue across his bottom lip. I suddenly felt small under his gaze.

His tender fingertips located the ball of my ankle, and he hastily removed both of my short heels, tossing them aimlessly to the floor. After he had discarded my shoes, he trailed his large palms upwards, caressing my calves, then my thighs. I watched intently as his veiny hands slipped under the hem of my dress. Vincent hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs at a painfully slow pace.

Once I was fully exposed, he assumed a position between my legs. Thankfully, the bed was grand enough for him to lay comfortably.

All the blood in my body had rushed to my core, and I could feel my heartbeat throbbing vehemently within my lower abdomen.

Vincent trailed his moist lips along my inner thigh, gazing up at me devilishly through his lashes as he did so. He was well aware that his teasing behavior was propelling me into a state of lust filled desperation.

When he established that he had prolonged my suffering enough, he hastily buried his face between my thighs. I gasped, throwing my head back onto the opulent pillows. My thighs instinctively clenched around his head, but Vincent’s strong hands pulled my legs apart to free himself.

He flattened his tongue against my clit, taking his time to draw out his movements so as to not supply me with an orgasm too hastily. He was thoroughly enjoying the elongation of my pleasure.

After a brief moment of supplying delicate sensations to my clit, I felt the tip of his finger prod at my entrance. I threw my hands upwards, grasping onto the bed frame, my knuckles quickly turning white.

“Oh fuck!”

I exclaimed, grinding my hips against his gorgeous face.

“Vincent-Vincent your mouth feels so good, holy shit.”

I spoke in mangled cries, not caring to keep my voice down. After all, there was no one around for miles to be bothered by my proclamations.

His middle two fingers pushed into my entrance, thrusting upwards to stimulate my walls.

“You taste wonderful, ma belle.”

He uttered, continuing to fuck me with his fingers throguhout the duration of his praise. Vincent located my g spot. My nails dug into the bedframe, undoubtedly leaving prominent scratches. He took note of my non verbal cues.

Vincent increased the intensity of his fingers. Quickly, the coil of pleasure began to tighten within my lower abdomen. I bucked my hips against his face, but Vincent quickly stifled my movements by pressing my hips into the mattress.

“Are you close?”

He murmured against my clit. The gentle vibrations set my nerves ablaze with white hot desire.

“Yeah, yeah I’m so close.”

I mumbled, my arms beginning to tremble as I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt my orgasm begin to seep into the corners of my brain.

Vincent’s long digits expertly located my g spot with every thrust.

His warm mouth continued to duck and stimulate my swollen bundle of nerves.

The erotic sounds of his fingers fucking my cunt reverberated loudly throguhout the predominantly empty bedroom.

“Then cum for me, ma chérie.”

His endearing words proved to be the last necessary step in reaching my release. The tension that had built within my stomach exploded as I came gloriously all over his face. My back felt as though it had been rammed into a solid brick wall.

My chest heaved, and I found it arduous to supply my lungs with sufficient oxygen.

My eyelids began to flutter open as the movements of both his tongue and fingers slowed. When he removed his digits and mouth, I was overcome with a glorious sensation of complete satisfaction. Both my mind and body succumbed to bliss. I had never before experienced such an absence of disquiet.

Vincent climbed over me, his torso now bare.

I cracked a small grin, my palms flattening against the expanse of his soft chest. His lips shone with my arousal. I trailed my fingertips slowly downwards, halting when I reached his thick leather belt. I began to undo the buckle, however, Vincent caught wind of my intentions. With one hand, he engulfed both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. I gasped.

“Oh, no, not now.”

His gentle lips tenderly kissed the soft divot behind my ear. I took a deep breath, the scent of his pricey, heavy fragrance clouding my mind.

“I have waited far too long for this moment. It would be foolish of me to allow you to furnish pleasure when my desire has been consuming me for years.”

Vincent moved off of me and stood to remove the remainder of his clothes. With a pleasurable whoosh, he pulled his belt from the loops of his formal pants. Subsequently, he removed his shoes and allowed his trousers to gather about his ankles.

He met my stare, the mellow hue of the faint overhead lights collecting within his green irises.

“You look beautiful.”

Once again, the heat from my body began to travel downwards.

Vincent’s boxers were the final article of clothing to be removed. I gulped audibly, as his sizable cock was now standing fully erect.

Holy shit, I thought to myself.

He possessed one of the most winsome cock I had ever laid eyes on. I clenched my thighs together, my cunt eagerly clenching around nothing.

When he had finished undressing, he climbed back over me and our lips met once again. I melted into the kiss, exhaling sensually as I sunk into the plush mattress. Vincent’s hand grasped the hem of my dress, tugging it upwards until I was forced to raise my arms.

Thankfully, the supportive nature of the outfit allowed me to function in the absence of a bra. As a result, my entire body was now fully exposed for Vincent’s piercing gaze.

He discarded the dress and dropped his hips suggestively until his prominent erection pressed against my lower stomach.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, beckoning him to progress further. Vincent shuffled his hips, tip now dangerously close to my aching cunt. But, before he slipped inside of me, he raised a free hand and tenderly brushed a few unruly strands of hair from my damp forehead.

“If you wish to stop at any moment, merely apprise me and I shall cease.”

I gave him a nod, throwing my arms around his neck to provide an anchor. Vincent pressed his lips to my neck, applying a few gentle kisses before sliding his cock into my wet cunt.

My walls stretched, hastily conforming to his rather large girth. My back arched into his solid torso. I inhaled sharply as he buried the entirety of his length deep within me.

“Are you alright, ma chérie?”

His body stilled. I groaned in mild frustration.

“Y-yeah. I’m more than alright. P-please just fuck me already. I-I need you so bad.”

Vincent pulled back. His lips were plush. His hair was disheveled. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink.

His disarranged appearance was a stark contrast to the previously sophisticated man I had met at the start of this afternoon. However, I do consider the duality of man to be a topic of the utmost enticement. There is something captivating about the notion of commencing a relationship with someone who has a secret side that solely you have the pleasure of becoming acquainted with.

Without further words, Vincent began to roll his hips. The slight pain of his cock quickly dissipated to create room for immense pleasure.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“Does that feel good? Hm?”

He spoke with a slight vocal fry. The raspiness of his tone elicited a visceral reaction. I dragged my nails along his smooth back, undoubtedly breaking skin.

He grumbled deep within his chest.

When I didn’t answer, Vincent pulled his face back, blown pupils meeting mine. I gazed at him through half lidded eyes. I found it difficult to ignite passionate eye contact when I was presented with the distraction of his cock expertly grazing against my g spot with every fervent jerk of his hips.

He wrapped a large hand around my neck. My pulse rose to the top of my skin as black spots began to cloud my vision.

“Come on, ma belle, be my good girl. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

I exhaled a shuddering breath.

“F-fuck… you feel so good inside me Vincent.”

I gulped.

“Y-your cock feels so good.”

Vincent’s skin began to sheen with a thin layer of perspiration. The unruly strands of brown hair deepened in color as they stuck to his forehead. I moaned pornographically as the grip on my neck constricted once more. My jaw dropped. The brief lack of oxygen only added to the flurry of incoherent thoughts bouncing around my skull.

“Oh, my, you’re such a good girl for me.”

He gulped, a soft sigh escaping his swollen lips.

“You’re taking me so well.”

The erotic words combined with his smooth accent contributed to the tightening of my lower abdomen.

I was close, dangerously close.

I could feel my body reaching the edge, and I would soon fall into a state of euphoria.

Vincent’s adjusted his hips ever so slightly, his tip now reaching deeper than before.

I instinctively turned my head away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I buried my face into the bed. My brow furrowed. My eyes squeezed shut as I anticipated my release.

Vincent utilized his thumb to reposition my face.

“No, don’t look away. Be my good girl and look me in the eyes.”

I forced my eyelids open, meeting his piercing stare as ever so slightly increased the frequency of his thrusts. Every instinct beckoned me to throw my head back, but I fought the desire. And, I instead kept my eyes fixated on Vincent’s blown pupils that had almost entirely consumed his irises.

“I want to watch you. I want to see your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I gave him a slight nod, indicating that I could hear while trapped in my lustful stupor.

His hand traveled downwards, gently caressing my curves before reaching my swollen clit. Vincent applied gentle pressure, and, with that, I let go.

I kept my eyes fixated on him, allowing my face to contort as it pleased.

Vincent groaned loudly, his cum coating my walls.

He continued to fuck me throguh my orgasm. His movements gradually slowed as the fog of euphoria began to dissipate. My chest rose and collapsed with fervor.

When I deemed it safe to break eye contact, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. Suddenly, I became aware of the gravitational pull the bed exerted on my body.

Jesus, I was exhausted.

Vincent removed his cock from my core. However, he remained atop me, tenderly pushing my unkempt hair back to create mild uniformity.

“You may stay here, if you’d like, for however long you wish.”

His voice was as it had been prior to our physical encounter.

I giggled, my mouth breaking into a slight smile.

“Your house is magnificent.”

I met his gaze, his eyes now possessing a tender quality.

“I don’t know if I ever want to leave.”

I said with a scoff.

A smirk played on the corner of his lips.

“Then don’t, stay here for as long as your heart desires.”

[rosevette]

·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS part 2. my mlist

𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

💋ྀིྀི résumé : the gifts won’t stop, along with john’s paranoia. he won’t even let you out of the hotel.

1.6k words + tags : dumb, ‘naive’ !reader, manipulation, fantasizing, smut, age gap, pet names, fingering, slight non-con, evil intent, brat-taming⭑

୭ৎ … im so sorry yall had to wait so long for this, but im finally finished !! more chapters to come, and I hope you enjoy…if there are any error, ignore! (part 1 here) - sincerely, rose

DAYS PASSED, and John's concern only seemed to intensify. He hovered nearby constantly, his watchful gaze never leaving your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. The gifts from Marquis didn’t stop either, a jewelry a day.

At first, you found John’s behavior endearing, a testament to his unwavering dedication to keeping you safe. But as time wore on, his constant vigilance began to chafe, leaving you feeling suffocated by his overbearing presence.

"I'm just going for a walk, John," you protested, attempting to slip past him as he stood guard by the hotel entrance.

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flashing with undisguised worry. "I can't let you out of my sight, not with him out there," he insisted, his tone firm and resolute.

Frustration bubbled up inside you as you shook off his hold, refusing to be caged like some delicate bird.

"I'm not a child, John. I can take care of myself," you snapped, storming towards the door, before the brooding man stopped you and held his position in front of the door.

“I said no.”

His voice was cold, you were getting on his nerves. Paranoid or not, he couldn’t let you go outside.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, my patience has already been thrown out the window.” He glared at you, you could tell he wasn’t joking, but you just can’t help but to talk back.

“You’re such a brute. You can’t keep me here fore—“ You widened your eyes, feeling a hand read gently on your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes to John’s gaze, your face flushed, your eyebrows narrowing.

“Stop being a brat.” He murmured, his words slipping smoothly through his lips.

Before you knew it, his body already pressed against yours firmly, his weight leaning you against the flat surface of the wall, secluded in your room.

“I’m just looking out for you, is that so hard to understand?”

As John pressed you against the decorative wallpaper, his firm grip sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His proximity ignited a fire within you, stirring desires that had long lain dormant.

With a defiant smirk, you met his intense gaze head-on, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as you leaned in closer, the tension crackling between you like electricity.

"You're not my keeper, John," you countered, your voice laced with equal parts defiance and desire. "I can take care of myself."

But before you could utter another word, John's lips crashed against yours, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving you breathless and dizzy with longing. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, igniting a fierce hunger deep within your core.

“Do you understand what no means?” He leaned back, scoffing at your flushed state. Now turning your body around to face him, his eyes trailed your body top to bottom, your heart pacing, knowing what was next.

With a gasp, you melted into him, your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his passion. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a fever pitch that threatened to consume you whole.

It didn’t take long until you felt his hands start to trail up your silk dress, his hand could be seen rubbing along your thighs through the thin fabric. Each whimper you gave was met with a smirk from John, only fueling his ego.

“Seems like this brat is already so wet for me. Is this what you wanted? To push my buttons to end up like this?”

Your breath hitched as John’s hands explored the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you with every teasing touch. His words, though laced with arrogance, only served to stoke the flames of your desire, igniting a primal need that begged to be sated.

With a low whimper, you arched into his touch, unable to deny the intoxicating effect he had on you. “N-No I didn’t mean to I…,” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction as you trailed your fingers along the contours of his chest.

The tension between you crackled with raw intensity, each touch, each whispered word fueling the inferno of passion that raged between you. Lost in the heat of the moment, his fingers eventually met contact with your wet folds, a moan slipping past your lips.

“J-John..” you croaked, squinting.

“I told you there would be punishments for your behavior.” You couldn’t even reply back in time when he had slipped a finger inside your wet hole, gasping into the air. A few pumps from his digits already made you a moaning mess.

Your words caught in your throat as John’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, rendering you speechless as ecstasy washed over you in dizzying waves. His fingers, skilled and knowing, delved deeper into your core, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

Every pump, every stroke sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your moans echoing in the air as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that John bestowed upon you. His touch was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving you craving more with each passing moment.

He smirked, eventually pulling his fingers away to bring to his mouth, tasting you. You widened your eyes, wondering why he stopped as jaw hung open, your poor cunt soaked and wanting more.

John’s smirk only deepened as he savored the taste of your arousal on his fingers, his gaze locked with yours as he drank in your reaction with undisguised satisfaction. Your widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes, your confusion and desire swirling together in a heady mix that only fueled his own arousal.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” He laughed wickedly. This was your punishment. He wasn’t going to continue, he was going to make you wait for it.

He scoffed, leaving you breathless and aching for more as he reveled in the power he held over you. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve on edge as you craved his touch like a drug.

“Clean yourself up, darling,” he said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired between you.

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt change in demeanor. Had it all been a game to him? A cruel joke at your expense?

With trembling hands, you gathered your wits about you, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs as you attempted to compose yourself. But the memory of his touch lingered like a fever dream, leaving you reeling in its wake.

Now stepping out of the steaming shower, you sighed to yourself, thinking back to John’s advances just an hour ago. You should’ve known he had a trick up his sleeve just to toy with you.

Before you could dwell on the thought any longer, your phone rang, startling you out of your reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, you frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," a smooth voice purred from the other end, sending a chill down your spine.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Recognition dawned on you as you realized who was calling. "Marquis," you greeted evenly, masking the tremor in your voice. “How did you find my number…”

"Ah, I know a guy," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "Tell me, have you been enjoying my little gifts?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the gesture," you replied tersely, forcing a note of indifference into your tone.

Deep down, you weren’t scared or threatened that the man called you, in fact, you welcomed it. Perhaps you could use this as payback for John?

The Marquis's laughter echoed in your ears, he had noticed your tone of voice . "Oh, ma chérie, you wound me," he purred. "But tell me, have you left Paris? I haven’t seen you anywhere…”

Yeah, thanks to John. You thought in your head.

“I simply admire beautiful things, and you, my dear, are the most exquisite masterpiece of them all. A shame I haven’t seen you since the auction.

Despite the danger and warning bells ringing in your mind, a rebellious spark ignited within you at the Marquis’s words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying John, of embracing the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.

As the Marquis’s laughter echoed in your ears, you felt a surge of defiance welling up inside you.

“I’m still here, Marquis,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief. “And I must say, your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Ah, so you’re still playing games, ma chérie,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “I must say, I do admire your spirit.”

The Marquis’s laughter filled the air once more, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. “Well then, my dear,” he purred. “Let’s see just how far that taste for danger will take you.”

the end ! part 3 in progress…

© rosevette 2024 . do not copy !

[6lostgirl6]

I’m having a bit of bill skarsgård brain rot, lmaooo. Can you do a yandere alphabet for the marquis from John wick

Yandere Alphabet - Vincent de Gramont

TW: Yandere themes, Mentions of Torture, Mentions of Arguments, Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced-Marriage, Spankings as Punishment, Overprotective Vincent, Controlling Vincent

A/N: Please inform me if I did not tag something correctly. Please know the difference between fictional and reality. While fictional, these types of relationships are extremely toxic, especially in real-life. If your relationship is showcasing these toxic behaviors, please seek help from someone to get out safely. Reblogs are heavily appreciated!!

Gif Credit: @mndvx

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Vincent's love languages are gift giving and acts of service. He's used to money and connections being the answer for everything and that includes how he shows his affections for you. It would be very intense, he would practically shower you in riches if you allowed him. Whatever you wanted was yours and he has the means of making it happen.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Vincent is all about efficiency. Whatever directly concerns his darling, he would need it to be handled immediately with little to no waste, effort, or energy. He would have his men handle it or deal with it himself, it depends on the situation. He dislikes messes, however, if someone were to kidnap you, harm you, or touch you, it would be a different story.

If you were harmed, he would return it ten-fold. Remember the scene between him and Nobody with a knife to the hand? Yes, he's willing to get messy for that. If his men are handling it, he would watch and enjoy it.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Once abducted, he would treat you like royality, since you're his sweet darling. No, he wouldn't mock you because that's childish in his eyes. He understands it is a difficult situation, but he would expect you to adapt sooner rather than later. He can only be patient for so long.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

There are many things he wouldn't allow you to do with the sole purpose of protecting you. You'll have to ask for his permission for many of these things, but he isn't unreasonable. If you want to go shopping, take a walk, there's must always be someone with you. You'll either be escorted by him or his men when he's busy. Your privacy will become nonexistent.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Vincent would be closed off in the beginning, he would need to trust you completely before he can open his heart to his darling. However, once he trusts his darling completely, he will open up about many things, however he will keep things from you. For instance, he wouldn't want his darling involved with his "occupation" and the things he's done. His vulnerability is strong when he completely trusts you, he's not against telling you his feelings.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Vincent can be patient and might even find his darling fighting back amusing. However, that patience can slip away very easily if the fighting persists. He would feel somewhat betrayed from his darling's behavior. He risked your safety to have you in his life and home and this is how you repay him?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, this is not a game to him and he takes it very seriously. Again, he risked your safety to have you in his life, the risk of someone using you against him. He may find his darling trying to escape humorous during the first few attempts, but it would be in your best interest to quit. He won't find it humorous anymore.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

His darling's worst experiences with him would be his outbursts and controlling behavior. Vincent's patience only goes a certain way until he explodes. Fighting against him would result in him yelling at you angrily and breaking things. For example, when Vincent broke his phone after speaking with Nobody. I believe that Vincent would break things when he's angry or overstimulated enough.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Vincent wants to experience everything with his darling. His darling is his significant other, therefore he envisions marrying his darling and having children to continue the next generation. He'll force you to marry him if he has to.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He can be extremely jealous, however it is not because of insecurity. He doesn't like anyone thinking they have a chance with his darling without going through him first. He doesn't need to cope being the Marquis, he can have that person killed if he wanted and it will happen. Yes, he will lash out in his own way.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He's extremely protective and affectionate with his darling. He can be charming when he wants, hand kisses, arm around the waist, gentle caresses, he will do it all for his darling. His darling always has his attention, even if he's busy. If you're on his good side, it's all romantic.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Vincent would do things behind the scenes, make his darling think they have a secret admirer, which is true. He would secretly send you romantic letters and expensive gifts. He would have his men secretly follow you around and get information to bring back to him. He wants to learn everything about you and prepare before abducting you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely, Vincent would be completely different with others compared to his darling. His darling is the only one that gets the sweet side of him while he remains aloof with others.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He would take away rights everytime you go against him. For instance, you would no longer be allowed to leave the mansion anymore, no matter how many times you try to appease him. He would need to see improvement first. Plus, he's not against putting his darling over his knee and spanking you until you're red.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He would take away some rights from his darling and his darling would need to have his approval for things. For instance, you're not allowed in the kitchens or leaving the mansion without him or a bodyguard and your personal belongings are always monitored. For your protection of course ❤️

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Well, he would have a little more patience with his darling than with others. He'll let his darling off easily the first few times, but it would quickly change because he would assume that his darling is being ungrateful and disrespecting him and his wishes.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Absolutely not. Vincent would never be able to move on if something happened to you. If you died, he would remain heartbroken for the rest of his life. If you escape, that'd a different story, you will return to him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He would never feel guilty for kidnapping his darling and it never crossed his mind that what he did was wrong. He has individuals killed for a living, kidnapping his darling wouldn't be any different. He would simply try to make you understand that what he did was necessary. He would never let his darling go, you would have to kill him first.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

I would assume his childhood and the things he deals with as the Marquis. He's used to having everything he wants, call him spoiled.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Vincent would feel disappointed about your behavior, especially when this is a reoccurring problem. However, he still loves you and would want to fix this as soon as possible. He would try to comfort you as much as he knew how. If you were upset about being restrained to the mansion, he'll take you outside. He would explain to you that this was only for your protection and he only wanted the best for you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Vincent isn't sadistic, at least towards his darling and values their feelings. He actually likes communication, you can be open with him about anything because he prefers your honesty than lying and disobeying him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He's used to getting what he wanted and gaining his complete trust would give his darling advantages. He would let his darling have more privileges and his darling can use that in an effort to escape. However, his trust is a long process so you'll need to play the waiting game. Be obedient and docile and you'll have him eating from your palm.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He absolutely loves his darling and willing to do anything for them. He'll buy anything you want if it meant gaining your affections. He has money and connections, he'll make it happen.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He'll pine for his darling for a few months, gaining information on them and preparing his home for his darling's arrival before he snaps. Whenever he wants something, he has to have it soon or now. Again, he's spoiled.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, he would.

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