#montparnasse x reader

[bees--in-my--bones]

YES I'm going to start writing again. probably post another chapter of mercury w/in a week. then I've got a montparnasse thing to post here that I posted on ao3 ages ago and I'm in the middle of a 2nd chapter for. then maybe I'll get around to that azula request from literally like 2 years ago

[iiseult]

⚜️ 𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ⚜️

❥ 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 - 𝒪𝒫𝐸𝒩

❥ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❥ 𝑀𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀

𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕸𝖊

❥ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝓊𝓎𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝐼𝓈𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒. 𝐼’𝓂 𝟣𝟫, 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓂 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓉!

𝕴𝖓𝖇𝖔𝖝/𝕬𝖘𝖐 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘

❥ 𝟣𝟪+ 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓂𝓊𝓉!

❥ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈, 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈, 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈, 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓈, 𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝑜𝒻.

❥ 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝐹𝒲 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒.

❥ 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒜𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒶𝓁 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝑒!

❥ 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉, 𝒮𝒜, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝓃𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶, 𝓃𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶.

𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘

• 𝒜𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓈 (𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟦) - 𝒲. 𝒜. 𝑀𝑜𝓏𝒶𝓇𝓉

• 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑀.𝒟. - 𝒥𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓈𝑜𝓃, 𝒢𝓇𝑒𝑔 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒

• 𝐼𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 (𝟣𝟫𝟫𝟦) - 𝐿𝓊𝒹𝓌𝒾𝑔 𝓋𝒶𝓃 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓃

• 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒹𝑜𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃 - 𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱

• 𝒦𝒩𝒴/𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝒮𝓁𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓇 - 𝐻𝒶𝑔𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓏𝓊𝓀𝒶, 𝒢𝓎𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑜

• 𝐿𝒪𝒯𝑅/𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝒷𝒷𝒾𝓉 - 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝒾, 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓊𝒾𝓁

• 𝐿𝑒𝓈 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 - 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓇𝑒, 𝐸𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓁𝓇𝒶𝓈, 𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒 (𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔)

• 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓇 (𝒜𝓃𝓃𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝒸𝑒) - 𝒥𝓊𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝑀𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁 𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝑀𝑜𝓃𝒶 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇

• 𝒯𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 - 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓎, 𝒥𝒶𝒸𝓀

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

look, it was inevitable that i was going to write about That Book at some point. 

imagine...

you climb swiftly over the rooftops of paris, agile as a cat. Below you, the city thrums with life, the streets full of Normies going about their daily activities. With almost superhuman ability, you leap from one building to the next, landing effortlessly. Life is hard when you're an outcast, but you're so obviously cool that it doesn't really matter.

'Y/N.' Montparnasse was waiting for you. He looks even more punk than you, if that's possible, but his expression has softened into some kind of affection. If you ever gave it serious thought you'd find it weird that this hardened assassin dude is such a pushover when you're around, but you're used to guys forgetting themselves.

You nod a curt greeting. 'What have you heard?'

'The Ritual is beginning soon,' he says, turning away dramatically to look across the rooftops.

Your stomach twists. It shouldn't be physically possible, but it is.

'You're not going, are you?' Montparnasse asks. 'To the Ritual, I mean?'

You meet his eyes evenly. 'I have to.'

'It's dangerous, Y/N.'

'Not as dangerous as I am,' you say and he smiles despite himself. 'I can handle myself.'

'I know you can. But this is serious. We're talking about Napoleon here.'

'What choice do I have? I'm the only one who can stop him.'

He sighs, but doesn't contradict you. Both of you are well aware that as far as members of Paris's criminal underworld go, you're by far the most powerful. Not because you have any particular political skill, influence, or abilities - you're a thief, after all, and not an assassin - but because you're the one thing capable of bringing about change: a plucky, attractive young woman with more snark than sense.

'I thought you'd be out with your boyfriend,' Montparnasse says, scowling unexpectedly. 'I thought it was your whole thing, keeping him out of trouble.'

'What?'

'The student leader. Enjolras St. Juste.'

'He's not my boyfriend,' you say quickly, feeling a blush creep onto your face. 'He's just ... it's complicated.'

'I've seen the way he looks at you,' Montparnasse says, still sounding resentful. 'He wants you, Y/N.'

You shift, uncomfortably. 'What did you mean, anyway? Keeping him out of trouble?'

Montparnasse grins, his teeth glittering a predatory white. 'He's gone looking for the Dead Lord. You know what'll happen if the Ghosts get hold of him.'

The heat drains out of your face faster than Javert jumping off a bridge. You've only had brief run-ins with the Dead Lord's followers before - the most notable being the time you forced your adopted sister to join them.

'They'll eat him,' you say, heart thudding.

'I shouldn't have told you anything,' Montparnasse says, but you're already running. You're halfway across the rooftop before the assassin notices that you've stolen his pistol.

[savetopnow]

2018-03-09 16 MOVIE now

MOVIE

Birth. Movies. Death.

THE STRANGERS: PREY AT NIGHT Review: Home Invasion Leaves Home

The New Poster For BLINDSPOTTING Tests Your Bias

Details Come Out About That Already Weird-Ass Joker Movie

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Friends Who Kill Together, Stay Together

CineVue

Film Review: Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story

DVD Review: La Prisonnière

Oscars 2018: The Shape of Water wins Best Picture, Best Director

Film Review: Annihilation

Oscars 2018: Our final predictions

Cinema Blend

Anya Taylor-Joy And Olivia Cooke Share The Fantastic True Story Behind The Fake Crying In Thoroughbreds

H1Z1 Has Gone Free-To-Play

Why Arrow Could Lose Another Major Character In Season 6

Top Chef Colorado Has Picked Its Winner

The Incredible Way Gotham Just Delivered A First Look At Batman

Cinema Scope

Madame Hyde (Serge Bozon, France/Belgium)

The Green Fog (Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson, Galen Johnson, US/Canada)

Cocote (Nelson Carlo de Los Santos Arias, Dominican Republic/Argentina/Germany)

The Uses of Disenchantment: Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water

3/4 (Ilian Metev, Bulgaria/Germany)

Comicboook.com

'Avengers: Infinity War': Shuri Meets Bruce Banner and Scarlet Witch in New Photo

New 'Shazam!' Photos Reveal Best Look yet at Costume

A Closer Look at Zachary Levi's 'Shazam!' Costume

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Joker Origin Story To Use Plotline From The Killing Joke

Film Comment Magazine

Film of the Week: Montparnasse Bienvenüe

Readers’ Poll 2017: Your Comments

Interview: Ashley McKenzie

Festivals: Berlin 2018

The Film Comment Podcast: Personal Problems (The Movie)

Film Inquiry

Anarchic Cinema: The Anti-Film & Why I Hate Andy Warhol

HAVE A NICE DAY: Money Makes the Story Go Round

BEAST OF BURDEN: Daniel Radcliffe Delivers The Goods

RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET: WRECK-IT RALPH 2 Trailer

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[fishandchipsandvinegar]

One of Us

 Jehanparnasse Week 2017 | Day 2 | Acceptance

I’m sorry this isn’t great, but it’s silly, and I’m just glad I wrote anything at all.

In part inspired by @gelatins, @aardanykey, and @deboracabral‘s crossover post here [x]

-

“You know,” Babet said, dropping dramatically down into a chair next to Montparnasse. Montparnasse didn’t even look up from his book. “I’ve never seen you this attached. And since you seem so devoted to that poor wisp of a thing, you really should bring them round for our approval.”

Montparnasse closed the book with a sharp snap, cold eyes turning up to Babet.

“Who said anything about me being attached?” Montparnasse demanded. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Mont,” Babet chided. “You’re reading poetry.”

“I do that,” Montparnasse defended. “I’ve always been a bigger reader than any of you.”

“Of gruesome low-brow horror and filth, sure, but poetry? Not so much.”

Montparnasse broke his gaze and grimaced.

“Poetry can be gruesome and horrible,” he muttered.

“Look, bring them round here tomorrow,” Babet said. “I’ll arrange for the others to be here.”

“You want me to bring them here?” Montparnasse raised an eyebrow. “Here, where we plot all our nefarious deeds? There is blood on the wall, Babet.”

“Embarassed?” Babet teased, and Montparnasse frowned.

“Okay, I’ll tidy up a bit, but we’re family and you’re the baby. We’re just being protective.”

Babet punctuated this by ruffling his hand through Montparnasse’s curls. Montparnasse huffed and made to leave, but Babet caught his arm.

“Besides,” he said. “If you mean to bring Jehan more fully into your life, then he is one of us as much as he is yours. And we don’t let just anyone into the Patron-Minette.”

“I swear to god, if you hurt him…” Montparnasse threatened. “If anything happens to him.”

“He’ll be fine,” Babet reassured.

~.~

“Everyone, this is, well… Jehan,” Montparnasse muttered upon their arrival. “Jehan, this is… well… My family.”

Jehan appraised, with a careful gaze, the motley crew Montparnasse called his family.

“I am most delighted to meet you,” Jehan gushed, shocking all of them by greeting each with a kiss on both cheeks. “Montparnasse doesn’t speak much of you, but when he does, he speaks with such reverence.”

“Doesn’t speak of us, eh?” Gueulemer growled. “Well there’s a whole lot we could tell you about him.”

“Starting with that he’s a nasty crim,” Brujon announced with a sharp smile.

“Oh, I knew that already!” Jehan admitted.

“Did you know he’s the cleanest hitman this side of Montmarte?” Claquesous added ominously as he stepped out of the backroom.

Jehan paled slightly. Whether it was at this new knowledge or at Claquesous’ overly dramatic appearance, Montparnasse wasn’t sure.

“I did not,” Jehan said carefully, with a side glance at Montparnasse. “But I suppose that’s all part of the job description.”

Claquesous seemed satisfied with this, and continued on with his work.

~.~

Jehan’s infectious personality kept the mood lively and light, and Montparnasse felt comfortable leaving Jehan with his friends to slip into the small kitchenette. He had been gone scarcely five seconds, only to come back to a find Jehan perched like a monkey on Gueulemer’s back, Jehan pressing the blade of a knife to the broader man’s throat. Both were grinning viciously.

“Mercy, mercy!” Gueulemer was laughing and Jehan released him, sliding back to the floor and straightening his obnoxiously yellow jumper.

“Oh you must teach me how to do that,” Brujon demanded.

“Gladly!” Jehan laughed, turning to wrestle now with Brujon instead. “It’s all about knowing how to use your weight to your advantage.”

Feeling a little jealous, Montparnasse swept Jehan up into a music-less waltz when Brujon begged his mercy.

“Waltzing, darling?” Jehan drawled. “I would have thought you’d want in on our little wrestling game, I know how you dearly love it.”

Montparnasse thought absently of the small scars along his throat where there games of wrestling had become… a little too enthusiastic.

“Not in company, mon amour,” Montparnasse replied. “You know how… invested we get.”

Jehan blushed and the rest of Patron-Minette sniggered until Babet pulled them all but the waltzing couple into the backroom.

“Where have they all gone?” Jehan asked as Montparnasse slowed them into a steady sway.

“To discuss your acceptance,” Montparnasse said.

The rest of the Patron-Minette returned, and Montparnasse stopped their dancing to address them.

“And?” he asked simply.

“We’d like to accept you into the Patron-Minette,” Babet addressed Jehan.

“But we’re a gang, so you have to prove you’re hardcore,” Gueulemer explained, gesturing to Claquesous, who was holding out a sheet of different prints.

“They���re lovely,” Jehan admitted. “But I don’t understand.”

“Choose a tat,” Montparnasse explained, and upon closer inspection, Jehan realized it was a sheet of temporary tattoos. He laughed loudly, and turned to giggle helplessly into Montparnasse’s shoulder.

“Oh, but don’t choose that cat one,” Montparnasse warned. “That one is mine.”

As Jehan held the damp washcloth over the tattoo he had chosen, he had never felt more accepted.

“And you were worried…” Montparnasse whispered sarcastically to him. “Now you’re one of us.”

“To think… me? In a gang? My friends would be shocked.”

“Clearly they don’t know you that well,” Montparnasse said.

“Perhaps not as intimately,” Jehan replied.

With a smirk, Montparnasse swept the newest member of Patron-Minette into his arms to kiss him thoroughly. The washcloth fell away to reveal a small rainbow on Jehan’s upper arm.

FIN.

[ao3feed-lesmiserables]

Good Morning

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ziqRAN

by Moonfreckle (Sunfreckle)

Soft, fluffy smut from start to finish.

Montparnasse is much better at sleeping in than Jehan, but he’s also very good at wake-up calls.

Can be read as part of any of my Jehanparnasse stories ( x, x, x ), but can definitely be read on its own if you’d like to step straight into a healthy, established relationship.

Words: 3313, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Multi

Characters: Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire

Relationships: Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire

Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Morning Sex, Smut Without Bias, (by which I mean that I leave their exact physical makeup up to the reader), So depending on how you choose to read this:, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Genderfluid Character, All headcanons are good headcanons

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2ziqRAN

[bees--in-my--bones]

France's Most Wanted Masterlist

Masterlist for my Montparnasse x reader story

Chapter 1: A Parisian Heist

Chapter 2: Camille

[bees--in-my--bones]

France's Most Wanted - Chapter 2: Camille

Chapter 1 / ----- France's Most Wanted Masterlist Masterlist

Character: Montparnasse x Reader

Summary: Painting acquired, it's time for you to get your money. You were prepared for a quick, easy day, but an unexpected visitor and unexpected proposal makes things much more complicated.

You had been on the move most of the night, only stopping for brief respite in the occasional store outcropping.

Dawn slipped over the top of the buildings, and with the daylight the city came to life.  Shops began to open, and you picked up a quick bite to eat from the nearest café.

A few blocks more and you approached your destination.  You rapped on the door of the small apartment, expecting Camille to come greet you as usual.  Instead you heard the old woman call from inside the house, "Come in dear, it's unlocked."

Suspicion welled within you.  To refer to you with an endearment was unlike the Camille you knew, but you would recognize her voice anywhere.  Carefully, you opened the door and stepped inside, entering a small living room.

Camille approached you, arms outstretched, leaving you baffled at her uncharacteristically warm behavior.  Nonetheless, you hesitantly accepted the hug.  She must be playing some grander game.  Or she had finally lost it.  "Y/N, my dear granddaughter, I had no idea you were in town."

A game indeed.  You had no relation to Camille, so what was she hiding, and from whom?

"Camille, you really shouldn't be leaving the door unlocked.  This is a dangerous part of the city."  The familiar deep voice startled you and you snapped your head up, looking over the short woman's shoulder to see a face you truly thought you would never see again.

"Montparnasse!" said Camille cheerfully as she released you from her grasp.  "This is my granddaughter, Y/N.  She doesn't live here, see, and so rarely gets to visit."

Your brow shot up in poorly hidden surprise.  Montparnasse?  What business did he have with Camille?  As you met his eyes, you could see that he was thinking the very same thing.  You had no idea the nature of the tale that Camille was trying to weave, so you kept your mouth shut.  But you were unable to break eye contact with the man who stood before you.  

"Let me go get the tea ready, yes?" she said, clapping her hands together.  "You two sit down, get to know one another."  With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, simple brown skirt swishing behind her.

Reluctantly, you sat down, Montparnasse doing the same.  After a moment's silence, you asked him, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," he responded smoothly.

"I asked first."

He pressed a hand to his chest, a look of dramatized worry overcoming his face.  "But if I were to tell you, it would ruin the image of the lovable rogue that you believe I am."

"I think you're obnoxious, and you've threatened my life more times than I typically allow people, so you better answer me fast, before I lose my patience."

"Feisty today, aren't we darling?  Fine then, since you have so egregiously intruded here-"

"I've intruded?"

He raised an eyebrow.  "Do you want me to tell you or not?"

You didn't reply, only settled back into his seat, his arms folded, and he continued.

"I was fifteen.  Life on the street was all I had ever known, and I knew that when you get hungry, you steal, simple as that.  But I stole from the wrong person.  They were thugs, a band of thieves no longer active, but they didn't take too kindly to a street rat trying to nick some of their goods.  So, I didn't make off with the wallet, and I was left on that street outside, beaten to a pulp.  Camille found me, and nursed me back to health.  She struggles to pay rent, and I owe her my life, so once I joined the Patron-Minette, I figured it would be improper not to give her a few francs each month, to help make ends meet."

At this point it was taking every ounce of strength you had to not burst into laughter, but you managed to hold it in long enough to ask, "Why would a hardened criminal care about a poor old woman?"

His brow furrowed, seemingly offended by your question.  "I owe her my very life.  I'm not that callous."

And that's when you lost it.

You doubled over in laughter as Montparnasse continued to speak.  "What?  What could possibly be so amusing to you?"

You wiped a tear away, barely catching your breath.  “You think Camille is struggling to pay rent?’

“Is she not?”

At that moment, Camille entered the room, tea tray in hand, a deceptively warm smile plastered on her face.  “Y/N, dear, you’re taking quite kindly to Montparnasse!” she said cheerily.

“I’m so sorry, Camille,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face, “I think I’ve just blown your cover.”

Camille’s smile dropped, and in an instant her grandmotherly facade faded, revealing the hardened old woman that you were more familiar with.  She set the tea tray down with a loud sigh and dropped into a chair.  “Phenomenal, Y/N, you’ve just cost me three francs a month, and now I have to change covers and move before this ruffian puts out a hit on me,” she said, gesturing to Montaparnasse.

You raised your eyebrow.  “You had an elaborate con with several layers of manipulation running for nothing more than an extra three francs a month?”

“You’re supposed to be the best of the best,” she retorted.  “You should know how to spot a con, and how not to blow it, especially one as simple as this.”

“You’re supposed to be the best of the best,” you countered.  “So, like I’ve already asked, why were you even running this con?”

“I'm an old woman.  I need to keep myself sharp.”

You rolled your eyes.  “You were overdue for a move anyway.  Really it should be no problem.  You have more covers and safehouses than the king does brown nosers.”

“Excuse me?” chimed in Montparnasse.  “I’m still here.”

You looked at him disdainfully.  “Yes, unfortunately.”

Camille turned to Montparnasse, still looking annoyed.  "I don't need your money, boy.  I own this damn house, there's no one to pay rent to."

Montparnasse looked at her in shock, but his face soon twisted into anger.  "You vile old woman!" he shouted, leaping from his chair and drawing a dagger.  "You saved my life only to scam me!"

"Why else would I save you?" she asked at the same time you said "As if you haven't done worse," cooly stepping in front of him and drawing a blade of your own as you blocked Camille from his reach.  "Why I may agree that Camille can be a pain in the ass," you added, "I can't allow you to hurt her.  Deepest apologies, dear Montparnasse."

He glared at you a moment longer, before sheathing his weapon.  Turning on his heel, he marched out of the house.

Camille sighed after the door slammed shut.  "He was a good source of information too, you know.  Learned a lot about the Patron-Minette from him."

You sat back down, making a show of pouring yourself a cup of tea and offering none to her.  "It's a street gang, Camille.  They're hardly a threat."

"Their influence is growing.  Remained unchecked, they could become our direct competitors."

"Maybe so, but I didn't come here to discuss the politics of crime syndicates with you.  Where's my money?"

"The politics of crime syndicates is what determines your livelihood," she grumbled, but she stood and crossed the room nonetheless.  She carried a case over to you and set it on your lap.  Opening it, you found it to be full of francs, as expected.  Nodding your approval, you handed Camille the painting from last night.  

"You know," you added slyly as you stood to take your leave, your business now done, "last night would have gone much smoother if I had my crew with me."

Camille scoffed.  "Consider yourself lucky that you had Sylvanie's designs to smuggle that damn thing out of there.  We're working on getting the rest of those meatheads that you call a crew back into the country, but after the stunts they pulled in England, it's been challenging."

"You think that getting you the biggest score you've ever seen from the British Royal Family wasn't challenging for us?"

"Never said it wasn't.  I have my people on it, I just need more time to get papers drawn up and wanted notices gone."

"Fine," you said, resting your hand on the doorknob.  "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon."

"Not in this house," she snapped.  "You made sure of that."

You shrugged, all but ignoring her comment.  "Get me your new location when you can."

And with that, you were gone. 

—--

You walked briskly through the streets of Paris, taking a winding route to the docks.  You could picture your estate in your mind, the cool wind of the countryside on your face and the sweet scent of flowers filling the air.  You had not told Camille that you were leaving the city, but you decided it didn't matter.  You had more than enough funds to take a break until you got your crew back, and your private home near the Spanish border was the perfect place to do so.  She would be preoccupied with moving for a while, anyways.

Unfortunately though, you weren't going to make it to the docks if you were being tailed. Again.  Your annoyance spiked as you caught a glimpse of a black top hat in the distance.  Had he not had enough?

You turned sharply into an alleyway, then positioned yourself against the wall, primed to catch your pursuer by surprise if he tried to attack.  Escape would be difficult in the narrow space, but you could scale the wall if need be.

As if on cue, Montparnasse turned the corner.  You placed your hand on your dagger, deciding not to draw it quite yet.  

"What do you want, Montparnasse?" your voice rang out, and he turned sharply, his eyes finding you in the low light.  

"Would you believe me if I said your help?"

"No."

He seemed almost disappointed by that, but you were sure you imagined it, that the darkness was playing tricks on your eyes.  Regardless, he was not swayed, and continued to give you what was turning out to be a very unwanted sales pitch.

"The Patron-Minette has a lead on a job.  Big score, even split between us all, but we need a woman.  We've been considering Madame Thénardier- that's our leader's wife," he added.

"I'm familiar with the leadership of your street gang, yes.”

He stepped closer to you.  "She isn't like us though.  She belongs to the underworld, but you and I-" He gently reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "We are more than the rest of them.  We're as at home in the castles as we are in the gutters."

You let out a huff of air, but you couldn't say you weren't intrigued.  "Waxing poetic won't flatter me.  What are you asking me to do?"

"I can't speak much of the details here, but there's a dinner party, one with men only, and the other only women.  The host and hostess each have a key, which are both essential for getting into their vault."

You furrowed your brow.  "Why go through the trouble if you can just pick the lock?"

"Because you can't," he replied. "The keys must be turned at precisely the same time or the gear mechanism will lock up.  We've tried."

You almost walked away then and there.  Let them figure it out.  As much as you loved money, it was a score you didn't need and a risk you didn't need to take, but something gave you pause.  Camille's words echoed in your head.

Their influence is growing.  Remained unchecked, they could become our direct competitors.

Maybe she was right, and if she was, it could be to your advantage to have the Patron-Minette in your debt.  And really it was a simple job.  Get in the party, get the key, open the vault, get out.  No problem.

You held Montparnasse's gaze for a moment, considering.  "Fine," you said.  "You have my help.  When is this party?"

"A week's time."

You nodded.  "I'll be in contact."  Spinning on your heel, you headed toward the alley's exit.

"Wait!" he called after you.  "I don't know where to find you!"

"But I know where to find you!" You replied, waving your hand over your shoulder and exiting the alleyway, now heading away from the docks and leaving Montparnasse alone in the shadows.

-----

Chapter 1 / -----

[bees--in-my--bones]

France's Most Wanted - Chapter 1: A Parisian Heist

----- / Chapter 2

France's Most Wanted Masterlist

Masterlist

Character: Montparnasse x Reader

Summary: You're one of the most accomplished thieves in France- perhaps even all of Europe, and you think yourself practically invincible. He's a member of one of the most notorious gangs in Paris, and he needs your help, a connection that you may just be able to use to your advantage.

Warnings: Sexy, sexy dagger fight. Mild swearing.

Words: 2400

A/N: So Montparnasse x reader. Pretty niche, I know, but bear with me, because I think this could be a pretty exciting story.

Another day, another ridiculously posh gala.  Someone with money had something to celebrate, so obviously that meant that the most obnoxiously fine things that money could buy were in order.

You scratched at your wig, the itchy thing far too uncomfortable for your liking, but helpful in a disguise.  

The swirling mass of luxurious fabrics and jewels ebbed and flowed like a tide, you a small boat pushing against it.  You were, needless to say, tempted by the riches around you.  How easy it would be to steal a necklace from her, a ring from him, but that was not what you were here for.  No, you had your eyes set on a far greater prize.

The party had been in full swing for a few hours now, and most guests were already well beyond tipsy.  You had been dancing with anyone who offered and making idle conversation as you waited for the perfect time to strike.  Soon, the opportunity arose.

Duke Boisseau, a sweaty little man whose slipping wig did little to hide his bald head, and who just happened to be the host of the gala, stood at the front of the room and clinked his glass, launching into some long winded speech about his youngest son's birthday.

Ah, you thought. So that's what the party is for.

Seizing your chance, you slowly made your way to the back of the room while the guests were distracted.  The second you were out of sight, you broke into a sprint.  As difficult as that was in your fancy dress, you needed to get what you came for and get out as soon as possible.

You may have not bothered to check what the party was for, but you had ingrained the guards shifts and routes into your memory, and your twisting route kept you clear of any patrols walking the hallways.

Finally you reached where you were going.  According to all the information you had, this was the Duchess' chambers.  Carefully you reached forward and tested the door, and surprisingly, it was unlocked.  

Hesitantly, you entered the room, and quietly shut the door behind you.  If the door was unlocked, someone could be in here, and-

You froze as you felt something sharp poke into your back.  Shit.

"Don't move," came a deep voice from behind you.  Once your assailant was satisfied you were going to obey, he issued another command.  "Put your hands where I can see them."

You complied, purposefully putting a slight tremble in your hands, deciding that the 'scared, ignorant girl' act was your best bet.  Already, you were biting the inside of your cheek, trying to force the tears to come.

The man began to slowly drag the knife around your abdomen as he moved to stand in front of you, the weapon now pointed at your stomach.  He was immaculately dressed.  His clothes seemed to be made of the finest things that money could buy.  His grooming was much the same.  His skin was as smooth as glass, and not a single strand of his dark hair, currently pulled back into a fashionable ponytail, was out of place.  An air of expensive cologne hung heavily around him.

By now the crocodile tears were streaming down your face, and as he sized you up, you began to spin your tale.  

"P-please, Monsieur, I don't want any trouble," you blubbered.  "Milady sent me to fetch her a coat, that's all.  See, she's come down with these frightening chills-"

Your lies were cut off as the knife was pressed harder into your abdomen.  "Did I say you could speak?" the man asked.  There was no mercy in his cold green eyes.

Still letting the tears fall, you shook your head.  

"Well," the man said.  "Quite unfortunately, you've found me in the middle of a robbery."  He gestured with his free hand at the jewelry boxes on the Duchess' vanity, contents strewn over the tabletop.  "Since I can't have any little chambermaids running about and telling the authorities what I look like, I'm going to have to kill you now.  It really is a shame to kill a pretty thing like you, but alas, such precautions must be taken."

Your face calmed, all signs of distress vanished. He was only a thief, like you, which meant he would not have you arrested and risk arrest himself. "Then thank God I'm no chambermaid," you said.  Before he could react, you grabbed his wrist in twisted it in such a manner that he was incapacitated, staring down at you in shock as you held his arm, all but trapped.  "I'd like to propose a truce.  You take your score, I'll take mine, and we will stay out of each other's way, yes?"

His shocked look turned to a grin as he realized what was happening.  "No chambermaid indeed!  Truly, you are a woman after my own heart.  I accept your truce."

You released his arm and walked away, studying the painting at the foot of the bed.  

"The good stuff is over here," he said, back to rifling through the jewelry.

Rolling your eyes, you lifted the painting off of the wall and set it face down on the bed.  As you began to undo the back, the man came over, curious as to what you were doing.

You lifted the canvas out of the frame, careful to touch it as little as possible, and set it down.  Backing away from the bed, you unhitched your skirt at the side and stepped out of it.  This sort of skirt was one of the many useful gadgets designed by Sylvanie, one of your most trusted companions.  She was always finding new ways to hide things in your clothing, and this dress was no exception.  It came undone down one side, allowing it to completely open up, and you were able to free yourself from it by simply taking a step to the side, which left you only in your underclothes.

The man raised his eyebrows.  "I've never had a woman quite this eager to undress for me, but I can't say that I have any complaints."

Ignoring him, you laid the skirt out on your bed and flipped up the top few layers, revealing a bag fastened into the skirt's lining.  You slipped the canvas inside, pleased to see that it was a perfect fit.  You lifted the skirt once more and wrapped it around yourself with a flourish, then quickly fastened it down the side.  The fasteners were completely hidden by the flowing fabric of the skirt, and the priceless painting was now one of the many layers in your outfit.  You straightened and smoothed the fabric surrounding you as you made eye contact with the strange man.  "Good evening then, Monsieur," you said, and started towards the door.

He scoffed.  "All that work to get in here and you steal one lousy painting.  You don't want to even look at the jewelry?"

The painting was worth more than all the jewels in this room combined, but you knew better than to tell him that.  "I wouldn't want to intrude on your payday," you said smoothly.

"I insist," he said, moving back to the pile of jewelry.  "In fact, this would look simply stunning on you."

He held up a necklace with a small opalescent stone strung on a dainty chain.  It was certainly a beautiful piece, the perfect combination of expensive looking without being too over the top.  You took it from him,  eager to be done with this and leave.  "I'll have to try it on later.  Farewell, Monsieur."  And with that, you made your exit. 

—--

When you finally made it back to the main event, the Duke was still droning on, the birthday boy dozing off at the table behind him.

You shook your head.  They almost made this too easy.  Approaching the door, you gave the doorman a murmured excuse about feeling faint and needing fresh air.  In all likelihood, he didn't care in the slightest, as he was leaned against the doorframe, eyes as glazed over as the rest of the party-goers.

You slipped into the garden and hid behind a tall hedge.  You made quick work of your skirt, removing it and pulling out three key items: a shawl, a much thinner, much subtler brown skirt, and the bag containing the painting.

You strapped the bag around your waist and pulled the brown skirt over it, then wrapped the shawl around your shoulders, concealing the lacy upper portion of your dress.  Then, for the final, most satisfying touch you took off your wig and threw it to the ground, savoring the lightness of your head after you removed the dead weight.  You quickly unpinned your hair and disappeared into the night.

—--

Some time later, after weaving through various allies and backroads in a twisting route intended to deter any pursuers, you came to a shabby apartment tucked between two much larger buildings. 

The apartment building was completely nondescript.  Any passerby would have completely disregarded its dull facade, which made it perfect for your purposes.  

You entered as quietly as possible and made your way up to your room, producing a tiny brass key from the folds of your skirt to unlock the door.  You shut and locked it behind you, then lit a small candle on the floor.

Unclasping your skirt, you removed the canvas from around your waist and slid it under the bed frame, which was one of the two pieces of furniture in the small room, the other being an old armchair in the corner.  

After your business was taken care of, you sunk into the large chair with a sigh of relief and closed your eyes.  Everything had gone smoothly, and all you had to do was hand the painting off in the morning.  Another successful job.

Or so you thought, until you heard a clicking sound at your door. 

Someone was picking the lock.

Instantly, you were on alert, and you slowly rose from your chair.  You blew out the candle and rested your hand on the knife at your waist.  Your eyes were trained on the door, your body deathly still.  The only light illuminating the room was the faint streetlight from below.

The door cracked and a tall figure entered, a cloud of expensive scent following.  Your eyes widened.  

The man from the party.

He hadn’t seen you yet, and the moment the door was shut, you sprang into action.  

Grabbing the back of his collar, you yanked him down and backwards, throwing him off his balance and exposing his throat, which you promptly pressed your knife against.

“I don’t take kindly to being followed,” you hissed.

The fool had the audacity to grin.  “There you are, Mademoiselle Mystery.”

Before you knew what was happening, he twisted out of your grasp, pulling out a knife of his own, shoving it to your throat as your back hit the wall.  His eyes glinted in sick glee as he pushed the knife gently against your skin.  

“You see, I’ve been doing some thinking, chérie, and I think that I’d like to know how much that little painting was worth.”

“What makes you think that it was worth anything at all?  Or that I still have it?”

Something in his face shifted, and you felt a feeling of cold dread flooded through you.  This man would kill you and wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Because no sane thief would leave that much money’s worth of jewelry if there wasn’t a bigger score to go after.  And you seem like a pretty competent thief to me.  As for whether or not you have it, I followed you back here, and I watched you every step of the way.  I would have noticed you leaving it behind."

Damn, this guy was good.  Or, even scarier, you were losing your edge.

"If you think I'm that good of a thief, you shouldn't have left me with a weapon," you replied with enough cheek to mask any fear that you were feeling, as you pressed your knife threateningly into his torso.  He glared at you, but slowly backed away and resheathed his knife.  You responded in kind.

Too wary to take your eyes off him, you stepped away from the wall and relit the candle.  "Who are you?" you asked.

He bowed, somehow both gracefully and full of over the top showmanship.  "I am called Montparnasse.  Perhaps you've heard of me?"

You raised an eyebrow.  "Of the Patron-Minette?"

He grinned.  "The very same."

You covered your mouth to hide your laughter.  "And to think that I was scared for a moment there!"

His grin faltered at your reaction, which was clearly not the astonishment he was expecting.  "What do you mean?"

"The Patron-Minette?" you asked incredulously.  "You're hardly a threat!  Why, I imagine you lot have been planning this heist for months, and all you came home with was a little bag of jewels!"

Montparnasse was clearly taken aback at your outburst, and dare you say, a bit offended.  "The Patron-Minette is the most feared criminal organization in Paris and I am one of its heads.  You would do well to show some respect."

Your laughter had stopped, but your bemused smile had not faded as you stepped closer, no longer quite as afraid as you were before.  "You're a gang of petty thieves.  You're only feared because the people know your names.  True power lies far deeper in the shadows than the likes of the Patron-Minette would ever be able to tread."

He tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowed.  "Who are you?"

"Pray that you never learn," you told him.  "Now get out."

You stepped forward again.  He stepped back, his cool exterior now slightly faltering.  His hand rested on the doorknob.

"Your name, at least, Mademoiselle?"

"Get. Out."

Hesitantly, he obliged, and the second that the door shut behind him you locked it and barricaded it with the chair.  You quickly gathered your meager belongings, including the painting, which you reattached around your waist, and left through the window, scaling the side of the building with practiced ease before setting off into the night once more.  

You could never return to this apartment now that your cover here had been blown, but no matter.  There were plenty of other safe houses.  Tomorrow morning you would be rid of the painting and have your money, and you would take a few months off.

You closed your eyes as you thought of it.  Yes, you surely deserved some time spent away in the country, surrounded with green grass and blue sky.  You could never stay away for too long though, you knew, before you would be back in the game.  You always came back.

-----

----- / Chapter 2

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

not a sequel, but a companion piece to this

Imagine...

A few weeks into a promising new relationship, most girls start worrying about meeting their boyfriend's family. There are so many things that could go wrong. What if his mum doesn't like you? What if his dad is hotter than he is? What if they drain your blood in a ritual sacrifice?

You aren't like most girls, though. And Montparnasse certainly isn't like any boyfriend you've had before. The only real way to describe him is if James Charles had a straight identical twin. (He even owns those assless chaps from James Charles' Coachella lookbook).

And the other thing about Montparnasse? Yeah, he's one of the leaders of the most dangerous criminal organisation in Paris.

You kind of thought he was joking when he first brought it up. You'd heard the name Patron Minette before - whispered, hinted darkly at - but had never really thought about the people involved before. And here was Montparnasse, cute as anything, telling you seriously that he had killed people.

Once you got over the shock, you realised quite how cool it was. He warned you not to go round telling people, but it took a real effort to keep to yourself. What you hadn't anticipated, though, was his announcement that it was time for you to meet the rest of the gang.

'I've met your family, Y/N,' he points out. It's true, he has. Unsurprisingly, they loved him. 'These guys...they're my family.'

Though you're nervous, you agree. What else can you do? It clearly matters a lot to him and, as you've already discovered in the bedroom, you'll do anything to make him happy.

He arranges the meeting for a few days' time. You dress as cute as you can - black Doc Martens, fishnet tights, black miniskirt, red corset top and a leather jacket - and hope that it's enough. From the appreciative look Montparnasse gives you when he comes to pick you up, it is.

'Remember,' he says, as you hop onto the back of his motorbike. 'They might be hardened criminals, but they're not made of stone. They're going to love you.'

You nod, hoping that your dramatic makeup - lots of eyeliner and dark lipstick - makes you look scarier than you feel.

He takes you to back to his opulent apartment, located just blocks from the Bastille.

'The others are already here,' he says, as you dismount from the motorbike. 'Just breathe, Y/N.'

Taking his hand, you follow him up the stairs to the top floor. Just as he warned you, it's already full of people. Well, full might be pushing it. There are three other men there - who Montparnasse introduces as Babet, Claquesous and Myriel.

They greet you warmly and Montparnasse dons an apron to get dinner going. Beginning to feel more relaxed, you compliment Babet on his tattoos and end up in a conversation about how fake goths are ruining the scene. Myriel joins in, while Claquesous just rolls his eyes affectionately. It's wild to think that these guys are actual criminals.

You're all sitting down to dinner when there's an unexpected knock at the door. The members of Patron Minette look at each other, suddenly pale.

'Did you invite him?' Babet asks, in a low voice.

Montparnasse shakes his head, vigorously. 'I didn't think he'd want to come. And I didn't want to scare Y/N.'

'Guys, what's going on?' You're definitely freaked out now. What had been a chill and relaxing evening suddenly seems to have taken a dark turn.

With a glance at the others, Claquesous addresses you gently. 'Y/N, it is generally believed that Patron Minette is a dragon with four heads.' He indicates those round the table. 'Yet what is not known is the body of that dragon. We have a fifth member, greater and more terrible than the rest of us combined.

His hands visibly shaking, Montparnasse gets up and walks across to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he mouths I love you, then turns to open it.

The ... thing that comes through the door isn't human. Nor is it any recognisable type of beast. It is huge, hairy and incredibly orange, with enormous eyes that sweep round the room and fix immediately on you.

Without speaking, the creature looks at Montparnasse, the question evident in its gaze.

'That's Y/N,' Montparnasse says. You're amazed to hear his voice is trembling. 'She's my girlfriend.'

Then, looking over to you. 'Y/N, this is Gritty. The true chief of Patron Minette.'

'Nice to meet you.' It takes an effort to force the words out, but you do it.

Gritty inclines his head.

'Would you like some dinner?' Montparnasse asks.

Gritty shakes his head. He's looking at you, still, eyes boring into your soul. He doesn't say anything, but you get a sudden flash of understanding and rise hastily to you feet.

'Y/N?' it's Babet who speaks, sounding concerned.

Ignoring him, you walk across the room to Gritty. Montparnasse watches in confusion - and then despair - as you go to the creature's side. His face crumples as he realises what's happening.

'I'm sorry,' you say, as Gritty places a fluffy, meaty hand on your shoulder.

'But I love you!' he says, desperate.

'I know,' you say, sorrowful. He is a good boyfriend and he deserves better than this. It's not his fault that you couldn't resist Gritty's sexual magnetism. As soon as you felt his eyes undressing you, you knew he was the only real one for you.

'I'm sorry,' you say again, as Gritty indicates the two of you should be leaving. 'You'll find somebody else.'

Swamped by disbelieving despair, Montparnasse watches you go.

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

this post is dedicated to @lenezdansleruisseau who, when asked, said they’d like anything mocking Montparnasse.

(anyone with requests/characters they’d like to see feel free to send me an ask/reply to a post)

Imagine...

You were always ordinary, except you didn't fit in. Entirely unremarkable in every way, and yet somehow beyond the frivolous obsessions of other girls your age. You mind was just deeper - you listened to punk music and thought about politics, while they discussed the latest spring fashions and the best way to get a thigh gap.

You had resigned yourself to nobody understanding and just being the weird loner at school - until one day, you're caught bunking by one of the seniors.

'Hey, Y/N.'

Startled, you glance up from your battered copy of Hamlet - and nearly drop the book. Oh my god; it's Montparnasse - disaster goth king of your school.

'Hey,' you say, hoping you sound cool. God, if only your mum would let you dye your hair. Your outfit is pretty goffick - fishnet stockings, ripped black skinny jeans, a black tank-top with a red lacy bra under it, with a black denim jacket thrown over the top - but having electric blue hair would really complete the look.

To your immense surprise, Montparnasse sits next to you on the floor, his back against the wall. He brushes his long, straightened emo fringe out of his eyes and says, 'Hey, you're reading Hamlet?'

Your pale face flushes. 'I know, it's not on the syllabus. I guess I just like more morbid stuff.'

'It's cool,' he says, and, reaching into his bag, produces an identical copy. 'It's my favourite play.'

Wow, this is surreal. Nobody has ever noticed you before, let alone shared your off-the-wall interests.

'I just relate to Ophelia so much,' you say.

'I get that.' God, eyeliner looks so hot on guys. 'I feel so alone sometimes. Especially at this school. It's like prep city.'

That makes you laugh, a genuine laugh like you haven't had for weeks. 'Prep City. Yeah, that sounds about right.'

'Everyone's so obsessed with like, who's going to be prom queen. It's all so fake, you know.' You hadn't noticed him smoking, but now he exhales and a plume of grey smoke seeps out of his mouth.

'Right,' you say. 'It's going to be that basic-arse Cosette anyway. Just because her dad runs the school.'

'She's such a phony,' he agrees. 'Hey, you know what would be fun?'

'What?'

'If we went. Like as a protest. Wear something really punk.'

Your heart starts beating faster. Is Montparnasse...asking you to prom?

'I don't know,' you say. Prom is stupid. You don't care about prom. And yet there's something about the idea of showing up, arm-in-arm with the most goffick boy in school... 'Okay. Fuck it.'

'Great.' He smiles wickedly. 'And, uh, Y/N... I thought you should know.'

He leans towards you, and brushes your hair away from your ear. In a voice that is both soft and hypermasculine, he whispers, 'Rawr.'

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

Montparnasse x Reader where the reader is actually a rose? (Like the Valjean x Bread Reader)

So I’m so sorry that this took ages for me to get round to! I have combined this prompt with the observations made by the Shoujo Cosette watchalong crew that SC!Montparnasse has remarkably tiny hands... hope you like it!

Imagine...

You have come into yourself recently, your beauty blooming for all to see. Many a fashionable young man passes you in the Luxembourg Gardens, their eyes lingering on your radiant complexion. You can tell they want to steal you away to have you to themselves - and the day comes where one man is bold enough to do so.

You have heard the rumours about him: that he is a dangerous criminal and a force to be reckoned with, but the hand that encloses you is surprisingly gentle. (It is also astonishingly small - so much so that at first you hardly believe it belongs to an adult. He is only just an adult, but you soon discover that the rest of his body is maturely proportioned). He is always good to you, nourishing you when you need it. Never are you sharp with him, for you are realising that he is your soulmate - and that your favourite place in the world is cradled in his freakishly small hands.

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

Imagine…

You wake in a decrepit room you don’t recognise, lying on top of an old and ripped mattress. Your head feels very heavy, and you don’t know how you got there. You do not even know what century you are in, and have only the vaguest of clues to go by. It could be the nineteenth or the twenty-first century - you must try and see if anyone is wearing a cravat.

‘She’s awake!’ somebody in the next room says. The next thing you know, a poorly-dressed young man has hurried into the room, clutching a towel and an ice pack.

‘How’re you feeling?’ he asks, sitting on the mattress next to you. Despite your confusion, you can’t help noticing that he’s very good-looking, if somewhat grimy.

‘What am I doing here?’ you ask, now even more confused. You’ve never seen this guy before in your life - you would definitely have remembered somebody this good-looking.

He smiles, and offers you the ice-pack wrapped in the towel. ‘Bet your head hurts. Here, this will help.’

It does, now that he mentions it. You accept the pack gratefully and hold it to your temple. There is a bruise rising, but you suspect it will only make your delicate complexion look more alluring.

‘What. Am. I. Doing. Here.’ You repeat, though the punctuation implied by the pauses means it doesn’t quite sound like a question.

‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ the hot guy says. He’s got a lot of tattoos, you suddenly notice. Oh my god, they’re probably gang tattoos. Have you been kidnapped by his gang?

‘I’m Montparnasse,’ he says. ‘But you can call me Monty.’

‘...okay,’ you say. Before you can ask anything else, the door bangs open and another young man comes barging in.

If the first guy was hot in a dangerous way, this guy is just plain unnerving. He’s sporting a dark green suit, which is almost black with bloodstains, and there is a maniacal gleam in his eye.

‘Making our guest welcome?’ he asks, in a cold and sneering tone.

Monty winces. ‘You shouldn’t have hit her. That wasn’t in the deal.’

‘I do what I like,’ the guy in green responds. ‘And you know it.’

He crosses the room, taking something from his pocket. ‘Y/N.’

It’s a business card. You take it, and in the dim light can just make out the elegant script.

Baron Pontmercy.

Your blood runs cold. This can’t be … you’ve heard tales of the Bloody Baron - the upstart who swore himself to Napoleon, murdered his grandfather, developed a taste for violence and has been the scourge of Paris ever since. The other gangs - of whom, you are guessing, Monty is a member - have bent the knee to him.

‘She’s very pretty,’ the Baron remarks, still watching you.

Monty tenses. ‘You’re not to lay a finger on her. That was the agreement.’

‘Agreements can be changed.’

‘Whoa, hold up!’ you exclaim, in a burst of Plucky Outrage. ‘What am I doing here? Did you guys kidnap me? And how come you’re talking about me like I’m not even here?’

‘Be quiet. Your opinions are inconsequential!’ the Baron snaps.

Monty is now trembling with anger. ‘Don’t you talk about my girlfriend like that!’

Girlfriend. Your head is reeling. On the one hand, who does Monty think he is?? But on the other, he might be your only protection against the Baron, who is definitely creeping you out.

The Baron just laughs. ‘Look at her. She’s pathetic. Afraid of everything, including you. I should have known yours was a sentimental attachment.’

‘Is that true, Y/N?’ Monty asks you, now suddenly tender. His emotions are definitely on a yo-yo. ‘Are you afraid of me?’

He looks so genuinely devastated that you can’t possibly say yes, even though the sensible thing would be to tell him to get fucked.

‘I used to watch you in the Luxembourg gardens,’ he adds. ‘You never saw me - I was hiding in the bushes - but I could see you walking. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.’

‘Oh, Monty!’ you exclaim, totally ignoring the part where he had called you a thing. ‘That’s so romantic!’

‘Not so fast!’ the Baron shouts. ‘I might take her for my own girlfriend, if just to teach you a lesson.’

Monty’s hand flies to the sword that has materialised at his belt. It’s huge - and, you hope, signifies that he’s in possession of another sizeable weapon. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

‘Very well.’ The Baron draws his own sword. ‘A fight to the death it is - with Y/N as the prize.’

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

BadImagines Library: Les Amis

For more posts, see Main Characters and Misc & Minor Characters. 

Enjolras

Enjolras makes you watch Game of Thrones

enjolras has a valentine’s message for you

we discover the identity of enjolras’s mistress

Enjolras Writes You Poetry (With A Twist)

100 Follower Special Sequel (NSFW) Enjolras gets in on the action

Theresa May Resignation Special

UK Politics Sequel: BoJo Special

you bring your famous bf to a school reunion

sequel to above: you meet Enjolras’s band (The Sewer Rats)

You, Enjolras, and the Barricade Mattress

You Raid Area 51

Grantaire

“Y/N Put The Bottle Down”

69 follower special feat: disney loving sappy grantaire

Combeferre

You, Combeferre, and Mothman

You Seduce Professor Combeferre

Bahorel

Bahorel is a dedicated law student

Bahorel Is Your Lawyer

Eponine

Eponine Gives You Dating Advice (implied past enjonine)

shoujo cosette special #2: eponine’s toulon plan

sequel to the 69 special: you get enjonine together

Montparnasse

Montparnasse x Reader (You Are A Rose - Request)

montparnasse is your goffic boyfriend

montparnasse is reformed by you

Les Amis/Misc

you are sold to les amis to pay for family debts

Bossuet Has Good Luck Now

you help feuilly and theodule, the star-crossed lovers

Barricade Day Part 1: Y/N Gets Nailed

Barricade Day Part 2: Charles Jeanne Who?

The Cats of Cafe Mew-Sain

You Get With Time Itself

You and Cosette Prepare For A Furry Convention

You Are Dating A Loaf Of Bread

Mamma Mia: You Want Your Dads At Your Wedding

Mamma Mia 2: The Fourth Dad

You Are Horny For Les Mis Itself

Les Travailleurs de la Mer Special: Getting Cosy With The Octopus

Les Amis Argue Over Who’s Going To Quarantine With You

[badlesmisimaginesofficial]

bad imagine masterpost

in the first week or so of this blog I was producing 1-2 badimagines per day and so in consequence there’s lots of older content some newcomers to this terrible shitshow may not have seen. hence the need for a masterpost, sorted by ship, which I’ll update fairly regularly.

victor hugo x reader

you have a valentine’s day seance 

you listen to hugo and juliette Get it On 

hugo shower curtain voyeurism

you are going to hook up with vicky in the sewers

valjean x reader

you are a loaf of bread

you work at valjean’s factory

you are a student and petit picpus and valjean is your sugar daddy

javert x reader

javert tells you his first name

javert interrogates you

mabeuf x reader

you find mabeuf’s body at the barricades

you meet mabeuf at a bookshop

marius x reader

The Bloody Baron takes you prisoner

you find the Bloody Baron at the barricade

montparnasse x reader

montparnasse is your goffic boyfriend

montparnasse is reformed by you

enjolras x reader

enjolras has a valentine’s message for you

we discover the identity of enjolras’s mistress

misc!

short request for anon

Bossuet Has Good Luck Now

you are sold to les amis to pay for family debts

You Babysit Gavroche

Bahorel is a dedicated law student

Bahorel Is Your Lawyer

Eponine Gives You Dating Advice (implied past enjonine)

myriel takes you in

[savetopnow]

2018-03-13 01 MOVIE now

MOVIE

Birth. Movies. Death.

SXSW 2018 Review: TAKE YOUR PILLS Shines A Light On An Alarming Problem

Is Denis Villeneuve Still Making a DUNE Movie? Nope! Now He’s Making TWO Of Them

FIRST MATCH Trailer Takes A Girl’s Troubles To The Mat

Wes Anderson And Bill Murray: A Cinematic Rapport

Book Review: S. Craig Zahler’s HUG CHICKENPENNY Is A Touching Gothic Parable

CineVue

Film Review: A Prominent Patient

Film Review: Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story

DVD Review: La Prisonnière

Oscars 2018: The Shape of Water wins Best Picture, Best Director

Film Review: Annihilation

Cinema Blend

Why Zach Galifianakis Didn’t Think He Would Get Hired For A Wrinkle In Time

Michael J. Fox Joined Instagram, And His First Post Was Gold

Cameron Diaz Has Reportedly Retired From Acting

The Simpsons Tried To Get O.J. Simpson As A Guest Star

Jesse Eisenberg Still Doesn't Know If He'll Get To Play Lex Luthor In Another DC Film

Cinema Scope

Madame Hyde (Serge Bozon, France/Belgium)

The Green Fog (Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson, Galen Johnson, US/Canada)

Cocote (Nelson Carlo de Los Santos Arias, Dominican Republic/Argentina/Germany)

The Uses of Disenchantment: Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water

3/4 (Ilian Metev, Bulgaria/Germany)

Comicboook.com

'Avengers: Infinity War': Who Says 'The End Is Near' in New TV Spot?

'Avengers: Infinity War': Here's What We Want to See From Iron Man's "Bleeding Edge" Armor

Why Hawkeye Is Possibly Missing in 'Avengers: Infinity War' Revealed

Here's How to Get a Sexy Ian Malcolm 'Jurassic Park' Funko Pop Figure

Warner Brothers Cast Wonder Woman & Green Lantern in 'Teen Titans GO!' Movie

Film Comment Magazine

TCM Diary: Secret Ceremony (1968) + The Legend of Lylah Clare (1968)

Deep Focus: A Wrinkle in Time

Film of the Week: Montparnasse Bienvenüe

Readers’ Poll 2017: Your Comments

Interview: Ashley McKenzie

Film Inquiry

OUTSIDE IN Trailer

Shawn’s SXSW Diary – Saturday: Odd Dissonances, Nice Surprises

DEATH WISH: A Poorly Timed, Generic Remake

Away From The Hype: GHOSTBUSTERS (2016)

“It Takes Me Right Back To Those Early Days; I’m Living It Again.” Chimps, Oscar Snubs & Favorite Films With Dr. Jane Goodall

Film School Rejects

The Science of Compassion in ‘Jane’

The ‘Sorry to Bother You’ Trailer Pushes Boundaries to The Limit

Bradley Cooper Will Lead a New ‘Matt Helm’ Movie

Good News: Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ Will Be Two Movies

‘Hereditary’ Review: Feels Like the First Time You Saw ‘The Sixth Sense’ But Far, Far Darker

Reddit Movies

Box Office Week: BLACK PANTHER is #1 for the 4th consecutive weekend and surpasses $1 billion in worldwide box office, A WRINKLE IN TIME opens to $33.3 million, THE SHAPE OF WATER surges 63% in box office post-Oscars, and TOMB RAIDER opens in Asia to $14.1 million.

Paramount just shared Wayne's World 2 playing in its entirety for streaming on a new platform for stoners

SXSW Film Review: ‘Ready Player One’

Annihilation now streaming!

Am I crazy for thinking Beauty and the Beast (2017) was almost unwatchable?

Roger Ebert

SXSW Film Festival 2018: “What Keeps You Alive,” “Unfriended: Dark Web,” “Upgrade,” “Wildling”

SXSW Film Festival 2018: “Fast Color,” “A Vigilante,” “Galveston”

Blockers

Itzhak

SXSW Film Festival 2018: "Wobble Palace"

Screen Rant

15 Secrets Behind Suits You Had No Idea About

Doctor Who Casts X-Men 2’s Alan Cumming As King James I

Star Wars: The First Order May Have More Superweapons

Josh Brolin Saw 30 Minutes of Infinity War And It’s ‘Amazing’

Agents of SHIELD Should End With Director Daisy Johnson

Slash Film

‘Jessica Jones’ Season 2 Spoiler Review: An Ambitious Second Season That Doesn’t Stick the Landing

‘Solo: A Star Wars Story’ Theater Standee Puts You in the Millennium Falcon Cockpit

Watch an Exclusive ‘Disaster Artist’ Clip From the Blu-ray Release

‘Ready Player One’ Review: A Lightweight but Fun Adventure in Nostalgia [SXSW]

A History of Violence: Eli Roth, John Wick, and the Morality of “Gun Porn”