#wait his name is vincent?????? 💀💀💀💀💀💀 LMAAOOOOO HUHHHHHH

[just-some-random-blogger]

THE WAY I RANNNNN TO REBLOG THIS TO SAVE THIS TO READ THIS FOR LATER COS I SAW YOU WERE THE AUTHOR

😫😫😫😫😫💳💢💳💢💳💢💳💢💳💢💳💳💢💳💢💳💢💳💢💳💢💳 GIRLLLLLIIEEEE BLESSSSSSSSS BLESSS UP BLESS YOU BLESSS MEEE BLESS YOUR FAMILY FED WELL FED WE WILL BE WELLLL FEEDDDD

OMG I HOPE YOU WATCHED THE FOURTH JOHN WICK ALREADY COS GIRRLLLLLLLLLLL WHEN I SAY IT WAS GOODDD WHEB I SAY MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY WAS ALTERED ITS SOO GOOD THE CAST WAS NOTHING SHORT OF SPECTACULAR SKARSGARD REEVES YEN UGHHHHHH DONNY FUCKING YEN THOOOO UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WE MUST GEEK OUT ABOUT THIS LET ME HAVE THAT WITH YOU ON Y HANDS AND KNEESS

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

NAHHHHH CUZZZ THE WAY YOU STARTED THISSSSSS THOOOOO

Unlike you. Renegade, foul-mouthed vagabond.

🧍 girl 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤢🤢🤢 its giving nothing have some spine have some face have some feminsm men aint shit and don't you ever forget that and FOR DUCKS SAKES YOURE AN ASSASSIN GIRLIE MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT IMPOSTER SYNDROME YUCKK

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

I- 🧍 he 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣😳😳😳😳😳

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

GIRL

LITERALLY SHUT THE FUCK UP DONT FUCKING RUIN THIS FOR ME

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

NAHHHHHHHH CUZ RHE WAY I ACTUALLY STARTED PANICKING STOMACH DROP HEART RACE THE FUCKING WORKSS NAURRRRRR

"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?"

SIR

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

IVE BEEN SAYIN THIS RAT ASS LOSER NEEDS SOME SPINE BEAT HER ASS dont actually do it BUT BEAT HER ASS YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN BEAT HER ASSSSSS

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

[HEAVY BREATHING] [HYPERVENTILATING]

PEOPLE LIKE 🗣️US

NAH BUT HE SAID PEOPLE LIKE US WE IN PEOPLE LIKE US TERRITORY AND JENJSJSNSJNSS IM DEAD IM LIVING FOR IT

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

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...