#Marquie imagines

[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

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[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.”

#marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick series #john wick smut #john wick movies #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard icons

[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.

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ˇAO3ˇ

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#Vincent de Gramont #Vincent de Gramont x reader #Vincent de Gramont x you #Vincent de Gramont imagine #Vincent de Gramont imagines #Marquis de Gramont #the Marquis de Gramont #Marquis de Gramont x reader #the marquis x reader #marquis imagine #the marquis imagine #marquis imagines #the marquis imagines #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont imagines #John Wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick imagines #john wick x fem reader

[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...

#marquis de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont #john wick #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont imagine #bill skargard #bill skarsgard x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #john wick 4 #marquis vincent de gramont imagine #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #vincent de gramont x reader

[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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.

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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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.

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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.

.

.

.

       “(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.

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         (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…

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere original character #yandere lovers #yandere love #Yandere love triangle #Yandere noble #yandere marquis #Yandere knight #yandere lesbian #Yandere wlw #original work #Yandere original work #yandere girl #yandere males #obsessive yandere #protective Yandere #original character #wlw #wlw oc #wlw ocs #genderfluid

[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

#marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #john wick #john wick franchise #john wick series #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick headcanons #vincent de gramont x reader #yandere!vincent de gramont x reader #yandere vincent de gramont x reader #john wick imagines #john wick x reader #yandere!john wick x reader #john wick x g/n!reader #yandere john wick x g/n!reader #john wick x y/n #yandere john wick x y/n #john wick x you #yandere john wick x you #yandere john wick #yandere #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere alphabet #bill skarsgard #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4

[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 !

#keanu reeves #john wick #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard x reader #john wick 4 #keanu x reader #marquis de gramont #Marquis x reader #John wick x reader #John wick imagines #Marquis de Gramont imagines #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #John wick 4 imagines #John wick 4 ff #keanu reeves ff

[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.

#vincent de gramont #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #john wick 4 #marquis de gramont #john wick chapter 4 #soft smut #bill skarsgard x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont imagine

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: because i dropped your hand while dancing left you out there standing. | the marquis catches a glimpse through you.

plot: the one where the marquis saw right through you.

warning: violence, gunshot, gunshot wound, doting

masterlist

12:00 AM

you got into the right side of the passenger backseat, usually it was the marquis’ place but he’d gotten into the left side and god knows he’s not scooting over for you.

it was his car after all. you sighed to yourself, attempting to veil the proof of your exhaustion. you had gotten up at 3 AM that morning for work and now it was midnight and the work was still unfinished.

“one last meeting, then the both of you can go home. you can welcome your plush bed and the warm purrs of your sweet fluffy cat.” you assure yourself. the man beside you seems worn out as well, the pair of you had been chasing meetings and appointments all day long. each meeting took at least 1-2 hours but with the marquis’ firm insistence to see an opera play which took about four hours, you can’t help but feel annoyed that this man’s taste had gotten in the way of your sleeping schedule.

the two of you were on the way to an estate of a newly made ally of the marquis. it would take at least thirty minutes or an hour to get there, you pondered what time you’d be able to finally rest.

you glanced at the marquis, gazing at the car window with a drink in hand. he appears to be holding on to the cusps of consciousness, he needs to appear sharp and alert with the help of an alcoholic drink. he kept quiet and the roaring of the engine was heard inside the vehicle. and it’s going to remain that way, you tell yourself.

god what you’d give for a quick power nap for this very hour, although you’re quite sure you’d sleep through the next day. however, sleep shouldn’t be your priority right now, the marquis needs you to be vigilant and sharp as well, no matter how tempting it is to sleep through this entire car ride.

“fuck, i feel like i’m about to pass out.” you complain to yourself, the temptation presenting itself more sweeter than it had been a few seconds ago.

you steal a quick glance at the marquis and he’s still..occupied looking through the car window. you might as well indulge in a quick nap, hopefully he won’t mind…right? and even if he does mind, no amount of verbal chastisement can amount to a quick rest.

you lean your head against the window, catching glimpses of the city lights and few pedestrians on the street. your eyelids fluttering from the sudden burst of light from other cars, tucking your hands on your lap. you drift to the sleep you’ve been yearning for.

a shaking wakes you up from your slumber, jolting from the action, you open your eyes wide open and see the driver shaking your knee.

“we’ve arrived” he announces.

you fix yourself sheepish from your unconsciousness, you quickly glance at the marquis to make sure he isn’t annoyed and thankfully he doesn’t seem displeased. the alcoholic drink was absent from his hand and he was checking something on his phone. you glance at your watch to check the time.

1:20 AM

you hope that arrival time was only a few minutes before that and it didn’t take several minutes shaking you conscious. realizing that you dropped your journal on the flooring of the car, you hastily pick it up and fix your sleeved shirt into place.

“shall we go inside, sir?” you meekly inquire to the marquis.

he slowly faces himself to you then checks his watch. he meets your eyes then clicks his tongue.

“yes.” he shortly answers before unlocking the door.

you follow his lead and you unlock the door of your side of the car, you get out of the vehicle. the estate was rather grand but not as grand as any of the marquis’ properties. the entrance was classy and elegant, with a staircase leading to the main entrance of the grand mansion and the lights were numerous but weren’t all illuminated; you could count at least five working lamps in the round plaza. out of your instinct, you look back at the marquis to see if he was out of the car as well.

“christ i feel like a doting mother to her child.” you mutter to yourself.

you let him lead the way, waiting for him to walk in front of you before you continue walking. the tiredness seeps into your body and senses again. you wonder if this would take an hour or two. but before the marquis trudges in front of you. a gunshot echoes through the plaza, the bullet bounces off the ground next to where the marquis is positioned, missing its intended target.

your voice shrieks, filled with dread and volume. one of the guards screams for the marquis to get down but he doesn’t, he looks astounded from what’s just happened, that someone is attempting to kill him. instead, you are the one who folds onto the ground scared for your life, yanking the marquis through his coat to get down on the ground with you.

“jesus christ, get down! are you trying to get yourself killed?!” you screech at his face, forgetting yourself, the weight of how dire the situation was pulling your senses down. in a different circumstance, he might’ve screamed back at you but right now he was silent. from shock or he didn’t care at what you just said to him but he remained stuck to the ground.

more bullets begin to shoot from every direction, some of them you can hear bouncing off the ground and some hitting the car, where you and the marquis are taking cover from the line of fire. great, now you’d either die being shot by a ricochet bullet or just get shot point blank. amazing.

“oh god. oh god. i’m going to fucking die. i’m going to die here.” you begin to ramble, tears are pricking your eyes and the sound of gunshots overwhelming your senses. you lean your back against the car and ball up weeping.

you could hear the heavy sigh the marquis made beside you, feeling shame fill your gut because you’d displeased him. oh fucking god, you’re about to die and you’re concerned about the irritation your boss has for you right now, that you’ve shown yourself weak in this very moment. this is fucking stupid, i should’ve never applied for this job. you slightly glare at him because of that.

“not everyone goes through this, you fucking asshole! sorry if i look fucking weak right now because i think i might die right now?! screw you and your french operas! screw that fucking painting you stare at the louvre! you can go fuck yourself if you think less of me right now?!” you wanted to scream at him, but decided not to, taking into measure it would only irritate him even more and wouldn’t do anything to help you.

your boss remained low to prevent stray bullets, he wasn’t sitting on the ground anymore but one of his feet was planted on the ground and his knee knelt on the floor. he looked at you, your face pale from fear and full of dread.

“you’re not going to die. we only have to wait this out. i assure you nothing bad will happen to you.” he attempts to reassure you but the tone of his voice is nothing but not assuring, it remains cold and firm as if stating a well-known fact. he was so sure that nothing bad would happen.

“you better be right, because if we die i’m going to search through the depths of hell just to strangle you for being wrong.” you think to yourself, “i might be dead but i can heal in hell.”

it continues on for several more minutes, you find it hard to know whether the gunfight was turning to your favor, considering you saw a few of the marquis’ guards dead on the ground but fewer enemies seem to shoot back as time progresses. finally, the gunshots start to dwindle until none remains, you look at the marquis wondering if it was safe to stand up. the marquis leans his hand against the car then calls out.

“thomas, are we clear?” your boss calls out, expecting the familiar voice of the captain of his bodyguards to immediately reply but there is none. silence ensues and dread slowly cements itself in your stomach, you pondered if thomas was already dead to answer the marquis.

“yes sir, the opening's clear. we’re good to get out of here.” thomas replies, his breath labored from the previous encounter.

relief floods your head and you let out a relieved sigh, glad that it is over. the marquis gets on both of his feet and looks around, his brain likely coming up with punishments for his new enemy for what he did tonight. you sniff then slowly rise in front of your boss, thankful the horrible occurrence was over.

for a moment you thought that everything was finally okay, but as you rose up, you caught a sight of your boss’ face stunned and alarmed while looking at you…except he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the person behind you.

before you could turn around to react, a final gunshot rang through the plaza and this time you couldn’t hear the sound of a ricocheting bullet to compensate for it. fuck, fuck, fuck. god please no. please no, a frail prayer to the above.

you look down and you notice a bright red spreading through your torso, the blood’s seeping through my shirt, you thought. you grasp your body and sink into the ground once again. god, it fucking hurts, you panic in your head. you hear another gunshot ring into the air, you pray that it wasn’t directed to you, when you look up you see the marquis wielding a gun, you assume he has shot the perpetrator, hopefully dead. you don’t often wish someone ill will, but right now it’s not fair for me to die and him to live. you let out a labored sigh and groan from the pain, as you try to lessen the blood loss. whimpering and tearing from the immense agony you felt from your wound, suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. you look up and it’s the marquis, unscathed and safe.

well that’s not fair. i’m definitely hunting him through hell. you promise to yourself, trying to find amusement for this situation. the marquis on the other hand was someone you’ve never seen before.

he has repositioned your head against himself, attempting to find comfort for you whilst you bled on the ground. you could hear bouts of shouts from the guards that survived but couldn’t understand what they’d been saying. the marquis gazes at you with concern. an odd thought to your head, you must be imagining this with the both of you locked in a daze.

“you’ll be okay, mon amour. hold on for a little, it will be safe for you soon. you will live.” he utters to you, one of his palms rubbing circles to the pulse on your arm. it sounds like a promise, like a vow. an oath made during his frail moments. this sounded much more assuring than what he’d said earlier and it…

it sounded like he cared, like he actually cared about you because he does. not because of any loyal service you’ve given him but because he can’t seem to bear the idea of you gone. it almost sounded like he was assuring himself that you wouldn’t die right now, that he wouldn’t let it happen.

oh what has the world become? in a short span of time you’ve been scared for your life, relieved for safety, basically a clusterfuck of emotions, got shot by a dude that’s more dead than you are right now, slowly bleeding to death and most peculiar of all you’re dying in the arms of your boss and it seems like he cares about you.

you could feel black spots appearing in your vision, blocking the very lovely face of the marquis and the glimmer of the night sky. with your bones weary from work and your blood soaking through your clothes, slowly you flutter your eyes shut. the last thing you hear is the marquis barking an order, for you or for someone else, you could not tell. right now it didn’t matter, not when you’ve embraced the arms of death.

a sudden burst of light shines through your eyelids.

you open your eyes and it’s welcomed by the bright sunlight coming from the windowsill. you’re laid on a plush bed, likely not yours. you could only dream of having this bed. the room you’re situated in is regal and glamourous, you figure out that you’re in one of the rooms of the marquis’ home. wait, what?

then it all starts surging back to you, the gunshots from foe and ally, dragging the marquis to the ground with you and bleeding on the ground of the plaza. oh my god, i’m alive. i’m alive.

you thank whatever god that might exist out there, grateful that they’d spared you from dying. a gasp exists your mouth but rather labored, my throat is hoarse. i need water. a gleam beams at the end of your eyes, you look at glass and pitcher of water beside the bed, on the nightstand. you suddenly sit up and pain pierces through your body

“fuck!” you curse, wincing you lift your shirt and see bandages wrapped around your torso. it was bandaged properly but soon you’d need to get wrapped again, the blood was starting to show on the fabric.

slowly you scoot to the end of the large elegant bed, trying to minimize the movement that your torso might’ve done in normal condition. once your feet hanged over the bed, the nightstand was a bit farther than you expected from the bed, i’ll have to talk to the housekeeper about this, it’s called a nightstand for a reason. it’s supposed to be beside the bed not half a meter away from it! thankfully, there was a chair nearby you could grasp onto. you grabbed the pitcher and poured it on the glass, filling it to the brim. you drank it, greedily gulping the smooth liquid that served remedy for your dry throat. after finishing all of it, you set the glass back at the nightstand then scoot back to the headboard of the comfy bed, which was bombarded with pillows. the bed looked sweet enough for a princess like sleeping beauty, thankfully you woke up sooner than later compared to the fairytale princess.

you contemplate how long you’ve been out ever since you got shot, with the sleepiness and the severity of your wound, you pray it didn’t take longer than a few days, you had duties to fulfill and tasks to accomplish, of course but going home seemed more pleasant than doing some work. you missed the warm fluffy pet you had at home, you pray that the automatic feeder had provided enough food for your cat.

you decided to head home, you didn’t want to over-welcome your stay at the marquis’, surprisingly you’ve never spent a single night here for sleep. the only people who slept in the manor was the marquis, himself in addition to the household staff and his security team. sometimes the guests the marquis invited were offered to stay but it happened rarely and mostly out of ill contempt. you’ve entered some of the bedrooms but never laid on one, your boss’ home seemed more like palace than house and you often speculated he was picky with who stayed in his home.

you opt to get out of here, right now. maybe call for the person who bandaged you up, to get your wound treated again. you get up from the bed again and weakly trudge to the door, holding on to pieces of furniture nearby in case you fell.

you pull the door with all your strength, i did not realize how fucking heavy this thing was, how did the guards open it in such an easy manner? you might never tell. when the door was slightly ajar, peeking your head through the opening. you notice two men guarding the door, weird you think to yourself, but before you could say anything one of them notices you and jolt, his eyes wide,

“ma’am, good to see you awake. do you need anything?” thomas, the guard inquires to you.

now this is weird beyond levels, they’ve never spoken that polite to you. sometimes you occasionally joked with them but it was never this…formal. not to mention, this was thomas. he’s supposed to be protecting the marquis 24/7 not watching over the assistant.

“um…i need adeline, the senior housekeeper? i was just about to go to her for my stuff and then head home.” you answer to him, also weirdly polite.

“afraid, you can’t ma’am.” he replies, this perplexes you. why in the world not? a silence answers thomas, hopefully this wasn’t the marquis’ doing. you literally almost died and he won’t even let you leave…the recovery room? much less let you leave the manor and go home? anyways, it has rendered you temporarily speechless and annoyed,

“can i ask why, thomas?” you question him, trying not let your annoyance show.

“doctor’s orders. also out of experience, you just took a bullet to the torso, think you might need to be under observation for a while to make sure your gunshot wound doesn’t get worse, would hate it for you to die right now, ma’am.” he explains to you, it sounds just right but it feels weird the way he says it. normally there’d be a tinge of humor when he entertained your questions but it was nonexistent right now.

god what in the world happened?

“uh..okay. i appreciate that thomas, could you please send for adeline here then? and if it’s possible, the doctor too.” you reply to him with a weak smile. he simply hums in return and leaves you.

you let out a tired sigh and walk back to bed, you were getting out of here one way or another. right now, you need to process what the fuck just happened to you. you need to think if the amount of money the marquis pays you was worth dying for to stay under his employ. you sit on the edge of the bed and bury your face in your hands, hoping that adeline arrived first before the doctor.

you anticipated that adeline might help you get out of here through the back door of the house. the marquis’ house as armed and protected it was didn’t seem safe to you. i need the comfort of my home and a new job.

no matter how protected the marquis was, if you were going to die working for him. it might now be worth it, you might consider leaving france and heading back to your country. i also need a vacation. the only rest i got from him was 3-5 hours at best and therapy. i need therapy, preferably retail therapy. a cat works too.

a knock erupts from the door, you face the door and urge for the person to come in. thankfully, it was adeline. you slowly get on your feet as adeline approaches you.

“hey adeline, it’s so nice to see you.” you smile at her.

a moment of hesitation appears on her face, as if contemplating if she should’ve gone here or speak to you.

“it’s nice to see you, alive and safe ma’am.” she doesn't return a smile and meekly answers.

why was everyone so polite? adeline always welcomed whenever she spoke to you, is this usually what happens when you get shot? or do they know something i don’t? god did the bullet hit something fragile in my body? am i living on borrowed time?

you kept quiet, unsure how to continue the conversation. adeline doesn’t even meet your eyes. you feel upset and empty, this has never happened between the both of you. the last time you spoke to her, it was on good terms. both of you chattering gossip about the people in the manor. it was always good to talk to her and you presumed she felt the same. maybe it was entirely one sided.

“is there something you need? something to eat?” she probes to you.

“no, i think i’m good.” you quietly answer her. from what you’ve experienced with her, adeline had a soft heart and she had opened it you, why had she shut it close now?

“do you need someone to rebandage you? i can call the doctor for you.” she asks again.

“i already did.”

she looked up and you could feel her stare all over you. likely confused why you asked for her.

“then why did you ask the guard to call for me?” she demands. her voice felt harsh, she’d never spoken like this to you. cold and sharp enough to cut through skin.

“i was going to ask if you knew where my stuff were.”

“it’s safely stored in your locker downstairs. is there anything else? we placed some lemon water beside the bed in case you woke up.”

you hesitate, the last sentence pricked your skin. “how…how long was i out?”

“almost two weeks.”

“fuck.”

well that’s not good. you definitely need to get home to see if your cat’s still alive. hopefully he didn’t stay waiting for you at the door, you’d rather he escaped than have him starve.

“that sounds like a long time for a gunshot wound.” you mutter.

“it’s actually not.” she states matter of factly.

“oh.” you realize. “i think i need to get home right now, my family’s probably worried sick that i haven’t talk to them for weeks. any chance you could sneak me out?” you tinge your voice with concern and softness at the end.

she stays quiet, before answering to you. she’s hesitating what she’d normally say to me, she’s choosing her words carefully.

“i can’t. i assume you’ve been told what thomas knows about being shot? you need to recover.”

“adeline, i really need to go home right now…i-i don’t feel safe right here. i want to go home.” you reason with her, she had a hard exterior you prayed it could soften right now.

“i can’t.” she replies. clearly you were going nowhere when she’s firm in her decision. you decide to get petty in a way that often annoys her.

“adeline please, i need time to think, preferably away from this place.”

“you won’t get that. you’re staying here.”

“is that so? under whose orders did that come from? you’re being unreasonable here adeline, if it’s from the doctor or thomas who is sort of unreliable by the way, i’ve seen him get shot thrice but managed to beat up at least three dudes. i can get a doctor to help me treat this wound. so for god’s sake adeline who told you i can’t leave?!”

“the marqu-“ she screeches at you before cutting short. realizing she almost said that, she arranges herself and changes her answer. “the doctor. the doctor says you need to stay here.”

but you had heard it before it was finishes. the marquis. the marquis doesn’t want you to leave yet. why? god knows. likely he wants to speak to you, something about punishment or consequences if you ratted him out or something. you’re too tired to think something logical.

“no. you said the marquis. why does the marquis want me to stay here?”

she stays silent. as if her tongue had been cut at that very moment. you try to understand, but it’s hard to tell without the why.

“adeline…why? please answer me.” you pleaded.

she doesn’t say anything but looks at you. then at something behind you, like the answer was always in the room all along. you don’t follow her gaze too exhausted to play a guessing game.

“you can go now adeline. thank you.” you said feeling resigned.

adeline leaves the room and shuts the door. you slowly walk back to the nightstand pour another glass of water. your throat was still hoarse and dry from the lack of water for two weeks. you sipped the liquid, tasting a lemony flavor in the water. you remembered how the marquis wouldn’t drink anything but lemon water, he preferred it because of something about it’s health benefits but it always annoyed you because he would suddenly need a glass of it in the middle of nowhere. the first time he ordered you to fetch him one was in the middle of a meeting, he had refused to drink the bottled water on the table. you ran down for fresh lemons and plunged it into a glass filled with bottled water just to spite him. you chuckle at yourself at that, remembering the times you’d taken a shortcut at some of his orders.

wait. wait. you pondered why did they give you lemon water? you’ve never drank it here. hot water usually satisfied you, and adeline knew this. not to mention, when there was lemon water, either the marquis was near or he just left the room. it’s like he spawns out of nowhere. nevertheless, it was odd. the marquis ordering to keep you here and his precious lemon water in your room?

this is getting weird and suspicious. you decide to just call for the doctor, maybe once he clears me i can go home. odd he hasn’t arrived yet, deciding to either go to him or ask thomas to call for him again. the doors of your room burst open, you see a pair of medical professionals, a nurse and a doctor. not surprising, but what makes your forehead wrinkle in confusion and makes you frown was that the marquis was following right behind them.

you couldn’t bother to hide your shock from the marquis and stare at him as if he was the most eerie thing you’ve ever seen.

you sat on the luxurious chair, trying to listen to what the doctor was saying. he had mentioned something about avoiding vigorous exercise and constant movements to avoid ripping your stitches. while he lectured you on what to do, the nurse changed your bandages and by the end of his disquisition, the nurse was finished treating your wound.

the doctor gave you a bottle of painkillers in case you felt a sudden intense pain before he and the nurse left. you thanked the both of them for treating you before they left the door.

now, it’s time to face the elephant in the room.

the marquis.

he had sat there the entire time while the doctor rambled about the do’s and don’ts for your safety. he hadn’t spoken a single word ever since he entered the room, he sat across you on a refined cushioned chair. he seemed calm as ever, you wondered why had come here. if he was here to order you to appoint a reservation for an opera at 3 PM, you might strangle him right away wounded or not.

then again, the memory is still fresh in your mind. he had saved you, sort of. he didn’t get to prevent the perpetrator from shooting you but he did provide the medical treatment to keep you alive plus he shot the dude who shot you, so points for that.

as usual, he was staring at you. it’s become some ritual of his whenever you enter the room to the point you just ignore it. it hinted that it was harmless as you’ve observed for the past two years. but there was something different about it this time.

before, you’ve assumed that he stared to invoke submission and resilience from you, to establish himself as higher than you, but now his gaze wants to invoke a word from you. why? you wouldn’t know. the enigma that is your boss, is a puzzle too difficult to solve.

“how are you feeling?” he breaks the silence, gladly you look up wanting to get the conversation over with.

“i’m fine, sir.” you reply amiably.

“that’s good to hear.” he mutters. there was also something weird about the tone of his voice, he kept quiet after as if reliantly expecting a reply from you. but you don’t so he speaks up again.

“you’ve been asleep for almost two weeks, some of us have feared you might never wake up again.” he claims.

“glad that’s not the case for me sir.” you respond.

“yes, god was kind to you that night. the bullet missed any vital organs but you bled out, too much i might add.” he conveys as if it’s something humorous, you notice a slight tugging at the corner of his lips.

“yeah, that was really lucky.” you agree with him.

this needs to end. you could tell he was just being polite, his words were simply pleasantries as your employer. he might see this as a semblance of duty as your boss and maybe because he feels bad you took a bullet for him. emphasis on the “maybe”.

“i just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for me. getting me treated until i woke up. so..thank you. thank you for saving my life. i owe you for it.” you graciously thank him, thinking of every event that you might have to thank him for. just to lay the foundation before you say what you actually want to say.

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, his eyes not meeting yours. you don’t know what’s going in that pretty head of his but..was he ashamed? ashamed. that word associated with your boss tastes different on the tongue. no, he can’t be.

“um..in addition to what i just said, i think i might head home now. like you said i’ve been gone for two weeks, my family’s probably going crazy worried about how i am right now. plus i think i got the wound covered, thank you for your hospitality.” you state to him in a gentle way, careful not to let your tone insult him in some way.

your effort to hide your weariness to achieve that polite demeanor in front him somehow fails, because after you said that the marquis looks back at you again and doesn’t say anything. was there something wrong with what i said?

he stares at you and doesn’t reply, he suddenly gets on his feet and walks to the larged illuminated window in the room. you follow your eyes on his frame, you’d assumed that he might’ve just agreed with you and left. you thought his visit was a mere courtesy so why had he stopped talking?

“sir?” you call out to him, the ticking on the clock appearing more dire than before. the same feeling you got during the car ride to the louvre two years ago, surges back to you.

but silence greets you.

“did you hear what i said?” growing more anxious by the second, you try a firm approach. still you were apprehensive on what he might have to say.

but no words answer you.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you question, your tone laced with worry. this is bad. a quiet marquis is a pondering marquis. whatever thought he’s got cooked up was never good.

“you cannot.” he declares.

finally he answered, although not what you wished to hear.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you firmly ask.

“sir?” you add, then the silent treatment flows into the room again. he stays quiet while you prod him with questions.

“it’s not…safe.” he states.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you reflect, someone might be out for his death right now, and perhaps torturing the assistant might get the required information they need, it’s also a possibility the marquis has sent out a bloodbath. it’s happened before and the times it occurred you’ve opted to reside a few hours in the manor, also to prevent being tortured for information, repercussions are still plausible. retaliation was always in mind.

“it’s not safe for you.” he faces you, the statement was like moisture on a window, blurry and murky. difficult to see what’s through.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

everything in your body shuts down. what the fuck is happening? you remember the concern he had when he cradled you into his arms, assuming it was because he’d seen you as a work friend that’s really helpful to him. even if he could easily replace you with a few seconds whether you were alive or dead. but this? what was he saying? this is different. it doesn’t feel right but it’s happening.

it all starts to dawn upon you. the fancy bedroom. he wanted me to be comfortable, even if the selection of people he would’ve accepted to stay were little to none. the lemon water. he visited me while i was recovering, he sat by my bed waiting for me to wake up. what he called you that night while you bled on the pavement, on his arms.

“you’ll be okay, mon amour. hold on for a little, it will be safe for you soon. you will live.”

mon amour.

my love.

he called you his love that night.

you realize.

he leans down in front of you, you lean back from your realization. more questions are popping into your head, so many you want to ask but nothing leaves your throat. you look up at him and he’s been doing the same, looking into your eyes. you can see the regret,concern and affection that’s festering in his eyes.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.” he divulges to you, he says it like he’s been keeping it for thousands of years while he kept his mouth shut in anguish, like he was itching to confess to you the tender words as if they were the most sacred secrets known to man.

as if the words kept him trapped in a prison with no way out, but now he’d said it and he was free.

you were shocked. too speechless to say anything. this might be the most difficult thing to process so far into your life,that your boss is fostering affection for you, because you took a bullet for him.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him he firmly states to you with affection and devotion which you could sense in his tone.

you wanted to object but he continued.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

mon coeur.

a french endearment.

my heart.

he called you his heart.

author’s note: first time posting a fic that isn’t a bunch of headcanons, with this being posted the upcoming fics may vary from the reader’s pov or the marquis’. this took me at least three days and a cold to finish, (no regrets) but how come part two took three days but part three, a whole nighter?? ;) the next one’s a bit interesting. feel free to share your thoughts!

part one part 3 part four part five

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re

#vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #john wick 4 #john wick #john wick fanfic #john wick fandom #yandere #obsessive #yandere x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #fic #fanfic #bill skarsgard crackship

[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.”

#marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #john wick #john wick 4 #marquis vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x you #john wick smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #john wick series #john wick fanfic #john wick imagine #john wick movies #john wick franchise

[multific]

The Ink Under Your Skin

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: Vincent wonders why you never wear short dresses, he assumed you were covered in scars so he didn't ask. But then, one evening he realizes just how wrong his assumption was.

He watched as you entered his office wearing another long-sleeved shirt with long pants. The only skin you showed was your neck and your decolletage.

Even if he longed to see more of your skin, he knew better than to ask. 

The truth was that he absolutely adored you. Being the one to finish many missions for and with him the two of you grew even closer after John Wick.

And now, Vincent noticed the small things about you.

One was that he had never seen more of your skin revealed.

He figured you might have scars due to your line of work.

But he was dying to know more to see more of you.

He knew your flirting was only a game, but he wasn't sure anymore.

"Here is the coin you asked for and the extra." you said as you placed a briefcase on his desk. 

"Perfect. Merci." he said and you only nodded as he checked everything.

Everything was perfect, yet again.

"Do you have anything else for me? Or can I go home?"

"Go home, rest for a bit. I have an event coming up, you are invited. The event will be the opening of the new Continental."

"Oh, lovely, I shall go then. Will you text me the details?"

"I don't expect you to come as a member of my... ring. More as a date."

"Date?" now that caught you off guard but then you smiled and gave him a nod. "Alright, I'll make sure to wear something nice."

"And short." he said immediately and you looked at him in the eyes.

"Nice and short, you got it. Then, wear that black suit I like so much."

"I'll be sure to impress. The opening is tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

On your way out, you made sure to sway your hips just a little bit more. 

Only to impress him.

And he was impressed.

---

The next morning you received a text saying Vincent would be there to pick you up at 5pm.

You knew how sharp he was, so you knew better than to waste time.

You picked out your favourite short dress and got into the bath.

You did your hair, make-up and finally, you were all done.

When your doorbell rang, you quickly gave yourself one last glance.

As soon as the door opened, Vincent's jaw hit the floor.

You looked stunning and now, he understood why you were always wearing long clothes.

You were covered in tattoos.

Almost every inch of your skin was covered by ink.

Various things were craved into your skin. Many resemble you as a person, your likings but Vincent also noticed a couple of achievements.

"Ready?" you asked as his eyes never stopped roaming your skin.

All he could do was simply nod. 

On your way to the new hotel, you two sat at the back while his driver was focused on the road. You were looking out the window, looking at the people you passed when you suddenly felt his hand on your thigh. You looked at him but he wasn't looking at you. Instead, Vincent was focusing on his phone, so you let his hand stay near your knee.

All night, he kept staring at you, more than usual.

Normally you didn't care when people looked at you a certain way because of your tattoos.

But with Vincent, it did bother you.

You liked him.

Perhaps more than you should like a psycho like him.

But you weren't much better.

Working with him did rub off on you maybe in the wrong way.

But you liked working with him.

He was too charming for his own good.

And he definitely thought he was a lot more slik than he actually was.

He really thought he could be staring at you like that and you wouldn't notice.

But you did like to play dumb.

Men liked dumb women.

If you reveal to him that you knew about his attention all along, he would bail.

So, you played your part for as long as you could.

You stood out on the balcony, looking at New York when someone stepped beside you.

"Nice view."

"For me, New York is not that impressive."

"I wasn't talking about the city." Vincent said as his eyes roamed all over your body. "I never imagined you would have tattoos, let alone so many of them."

"Do you not like it?"

"I do." his reply was immediate, making all of your doubts fly out the window.

"I won't lie, I was a bit worried about your reaction."

"Why so?"

"People around us only have tattoos related to their work... I have my interests."

"Which is why I adore them even more." his hand moved to your forearm, letting his thumb run down the skin, he watched in adoration.

"I need to know Vincent." you spoke and looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "I need to know if you are only interested in me so I would work for you."

"You already work for me. I don't need to seduce you in order to convince you to do things for me. I will say this, it is quite the opposite, I believed for a while that you were the one seducing me so that you could get more money perhaps. At least I know the money went to a good place." he said as his hand moved to your waist

"I'm getting a new one done next week." you smiled. 

"Perfect." he whispered as he leaned down and his lips met yours in a short yet sweet kiss.

Who knew that the ink under your skin would be the breaking point for the two of you.

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

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

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont x you #vincent de gramont imagine #vincent de gramont imagines #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis x reader #marquis imagine #john wick x reader #x female reader #x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you #the marquis x reader #the marquis imagine #the marquis imagines #the marquis #john wick marquis #john wick marquis x reader

[endless-ineffabilities]

MORE MARQUIS MOREEEEEEE I LOOOOOOVED IT, L - O - V - E - D ITTT!!!!!!!

le marquis et le moineau - (ill)fated

Marquis de Gramont x f!reader

synopsis: one of several short stories, set up as a prequel to this oneshot of le marquis et le moineau. This is set in the early days, depicting the beginning of what would turn into a dangerous mutual infatuation.

more of moineau: le marquis et le moineau ▪︎ first dance ▪︎ other works

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ themes/warnings: slow burn, mentions of violence (it's the John Wick universe ofc), language

"Welcome to the New York Continental. How may I be of service?" Charon asks in his flawless genial manner.

You stand behind him, his shadow in training. After only 3 short months as the 'Assistant to the Concierge' - (a title you picked over 'Assistant Concierge', in reference to a certain beloved TV series) - you've come to learn the ins and outs of the Continental.

What makes it tick. The demands of its peculiar crowd of usual guests. What is required to keep such an establishment up and running.

In truth, it takes a lot of fucking work. Much and more need to be swept under the rug so as to not attract attention. Guests need to be kept satisfied, their particular requests adhered to. As long as it is well within the rules of the High Table, of course.

The only thing separating you from the animals.

As if everyone in this sort of life has not already become animal. Well, isn't ignorance such bliss.

The man who introduced himself as Chidi says, "I have come ahead of my superior, the Marquis de Gramont. Needless to say, we must ensure that everything is well-prepared for his stay here in New York. Wouldn't you agree, Charon?"

"Of course, sir." Charon tilts his head. "I will personally see to that, don't you worry. Is he still set to arrive tonight at the planned hour?"

"He should be here at 6 this evening. I trust that the... agitator is being dealt with?"

Charon walks in front of the counter, taking a parcel from a bellhop. He keeps his gaze trained on Chidi. "With compliments of the Continental, sir. The proprietor has ensured that the liability will be brought to the penthouse of the Marquis."

"Very good." Chidi taps Charon on the shoulder once, before walking away, a satisfied sneer on his face.

"Just remember, sir," Charon calls out to him, making his stop in his tracks, "that no business may be conducted on Continental grounds."

"Hmm."

After a moment, you move to stand beside Charon.

"So, sir, what was that all about?"

He turns his head towards you fondly. "I'm sure you've heard of Marquis Vincent de Gramont."

"Well, I've heard that he comes across as a pompous ass, if that's what you mean."

Charon simply raises his eyebrows at you, already accustomed to your blunt, sarcastic manner of speaking. "Well, he will be staying with us for a couple of days, as he has some... business to deal with."

"I won't even ask."

He moves to stand in front of you, finding your eyes. "Dear child, might I suggest steering clear of the Marquis and his associates whilst he is in residence with us here? It would simply be for the best. His reputation does preceed him."

You can't help but smile at Charon's nickname for you, one that heralds back to when your family first moved across the hall from him in one of the High Table sponsored apartment buildings in downtown Manhattan.

You had been only 12, but you were already well aware of your father's line of work. One that required him to be away on business to faraway cities each month, and caused him to rub elbows with the dregs of the underworld.

Not all of them were bad though. You grew fond of some of his associates, namely Charon, of course. And the one they called the Baba Yaga, but to you he was just Johnny.

John Wick hated the name, but he liked you, so the name stayed. Him and his then wife somehow became your second set of parents, with your dad never around and your mother usually drowning in her fancy liquor.

More than a decade later, your father met his end on one of his jobs. One that was only supposed to be "quick and easy". He promised he would be back to you in no time, with a box of your favourite chocolates from Paris.

But he never came. And neither did the fucking chocolates, which truthfully, you now hated. Your father lost his life in that city, so you grew to loathe everything about it.

And now comes the Marquis, the man practically in charge of all of Paris. Not to the public eye, of course.

If Charon asks you to steer clear of him, it must be for good reason.

But you've never been good at following orders. Or staying out of trouble. Or keeping your mouth shut.

"Whoever this Marquis is, I can handle him," you say determinedly. "I'll just act normal, do my job, go about business as usual."

Charon takes a deep breath, resigning himself. "Very well. Just try not to catch his eye." A tenant raises her hand, demanding his attention, so he starts to head her way.

"You know me," you call after him, an impish grin on your face. "I'm only a shadow."

The Marquis de Gramont stands in the ornate lobby of the Continental, surrounded by his posse. Clad in an impeccable three-piece cream suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his polished shoes gleaming to the naked eye.

He is never beating those pompous ass allegations. You can't help but smirk from your post behind the concierge desk.

You look down briefly, smoothing out invisible creases on your black button-up shirt. Don't laugh. You roll out your shoulders. Compose yourself.

Winston and Charon had greeted his entourage upon entering, and they've been hashing out the details of his stay for the last minute or two. Apparently, the Marquis has some very specific demands. Of course he does.

Those in the group exchange some final words, nodding to each other, seemingly satisfied. Charon raises his arm, directing the Marquis. "Right this way, if you please."

Hands on his hips, the Marquis makes his way over to the private elevator. Which only means that he will have to pass by your post.

You try to keep your head down, as a practiced sign of cordiality. Also, so that you don't let out an impromptu sneer. But you can't help it. Right when he passes by, you raise your head.

And he is already looking straight at you.

The corner of his lips is in a downturn, as if he is judging you where you stand. Pompous prick.

You don't let it faze you. "Welcome to the Continental. We hope you enjoy your stay," you greet him, eyes not leaving his in some sort of defiance.

"Hmm." He walks by, slowly, and you only want to urge him on. But just when he is clear of the reception desk, he turns on his heel.

"What is your name?" He asks, a perfect brow raised in anticipation.

You answer him, keeping your voice steady. You've learned a long time ago not to allow men like him the chance to intimidate you.

A momentary pause, before he repeats your name. You want to hate the way he says it, as if he testing it on his tongue, seeing how it tastes.

But hell, that French accent can make anything sound heavenly.

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" Charon has moved to your side, wary of the attention from the marquis.

Marquis de Gramont barely acknowledges Charon with a sideways glance, before looking back to you. "Non, no problem at all."

He finally walks away. But of course, of course he has to drive a chill up your spine as he calls over his shoulder, "Have her come up to me in twenty minutes."

You grit your teeth in an attempt to maintain cordiality. "Excuse me, sir?" He could have at least addressed me himself.

Nothing. He doesn't even look back at you as he enters the elevator, head dipped in hushed whispers to his security team.

"So much for your being 'only a shadow', hmm?" Charon echoes your sentiment, which has just been apparently disproven.

Winston draws closer, worried look on his face as he says, "Quite a conundrum, dear one. I'm considering sending someone else in your place, however, he did ask for you markedly."

Your stomach churned. "Maybe he just needs some attending? Room service? Basic cleanup? I don't know..." Basic cleanup being clearing the blood of the surfaces of his penthouse, especially after he deals with the man the establishment had caught and presented to him.

Deals with. But not kill. Never that. Not whilst on Continental grounds, that is.

Winston responds, "Perhaps so. I trust that you will handle it? I know you can, child."

You straighten yourself. "Of course I can. He's just some overgrown French brat."

But what the fuck does he want?

"If anything," Winston adds calmly, "and worst comes to worst, your dear Uncle Johnny would surely be happy to lend a hand."

Of course he will. Feeling much lighter, you shoot a smile at Charon and Winston, before returning to your post behind the desk.

18 more minutes.

The Marquis stays in the biggest penthouse of the Continental. The most exclusive part of the property, made even more opulent per his request.

New pieces of artwork are hung on the walls, requested from some New York Baron's private collection. Not that he had a choice.

The man - the traitor - known as Laurent had been staying at the Continental in the week prior, stupidly believing that he is free of the Marquis.

It only took one phone call, and of course, Winston had to relent. They kept Laurent in one of their best suites, lulling him into a false sense of security, all while preparing for the Marquis' arrival.

Then Laurent's room was filled with nitrous oxide, and he was tied up and taken to the Marquis' penthouse.

Laurent sits in a lone wooden chair, nearly unconscious in the middle of the drawing room as you enter, a gash of deep red on his temple.

Chidi sits directly in front of him, seemingly carrying out the interrogation. His superior, on the other hand, lazily sits on the plush couch on the far side of the room. Looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. As if there isn't a man being tortured right in front of his eyes.

One of his men announces your arrival, but you sense the Marquis has already noticed your presence.

You clear your throat. "You asked for me, sir?"

"Mmm," he hums, and tilts his head. "Tell me, what was so funny?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me in the lobby," he stands, stalking over to you, "you smirked. I wish to know what it was that brought you to react in such a manner."

This is why he asked for me? Because I smirked? Oh, for fuck's -

He steps forward, closer. "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, sir, I... I must admit, I don't quite remember what you speak of. I smirk to myself all the time. I've got plenty of inside jokes and all that."

"To yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you... well in the head?" He twirls his fingers beside his temple. The bastard.

"Yes, Marquis." You take a deep breath, but you can't help yourself. "But I assure you I'm just as demented as you are."

A gloom falls over his face, and you sense his security team tense up. Preparing for him to say the word.

Your eyes trail around the room, and continue, "And everyone else in this world of ours."

The Marquis stares at you. Half-indignant, and dare you think it, half-amused.

His lips twitch, fighting back a smirk of his own, and his eyes rake your figure. From your uniform shoes to your hands to your lips. Then back to your gaze.

"Fair point." He shrugs, and the room settles once again. His men look away from the pair of you.

He turns, beckoning you to follow. A few feet in front of Laurent, he asks, "What do you make of this?"

Of this? You mean of him? The way the Marquis speaks, as if Laurent is merely a thing to be dealt with and not a person, bothers you. But such is the way of your world.

"Laurent Castillon. French-Italian sommelier. If I understand correctly, he cheated you out of what would have been successful dinner plans."

Sommelier, an arms dealer. Dinner plans, whatever you can concoct with the use of guns. You're more than accustomed to the language, having picked it up over the years.

"Excellent." The Marquis clasps his hands, pleased. "Now, what do you make of this? What would you do, if you were in my shoes?"

He is testing you, prodding you on. Seeing if you would curl back in your shell or flinch.

Is there a wrong answer here, or is this all just some game?

"I would set things right, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He repeats, dissatisfied. "We don't deal in half measures."

"I would - ," you look him directly in his eyes, "I would make him pay."

Something sparks in Marquis de Gramont's eyes. Recognition? Appreciation? Excitement?

"Won't that be a waste?" He takes a step closer, eliminating the space between you.

Stand your ground.

You shrug, "Such is life."

He smiles, "Indeed, petit moineau."

In a flash, without breaking your gaze, he takes a handgun from the inner lining of his jacket and shoots Laurent in the knee. He keels over, screaming.

The familiar sound rings in your ears, making you dig your nails in the flesh of your palm.

The Marquis does not even flinch, does not even look at Laurent who is writhing on the floor in pain.

"And what now?" He rubs an eyebrow with his thumb, still holding his gun carelessly with that hand.

"That depends." What the fuck did he call me? Moineau? "How gracious do you feel tonight?"

"Why?"

"Well," you say carefully, knowing the wrong word might set him off, "you could let the fool go. You've already taught him a lesson."

A long, torturous pause. He does not seem to like that suggestion.

"Take him away." He gives a sudden order, and all his men rush to obey. Seconds pass, and Laurent is out of your sight. Only Chidi and two other men are left hovering in the corner.

"Leave us," the Marquis finally says. Well, shit.

The door shuts behind the men, and you are left alone, with one of the most notorious men in the city. Perhaps the world.

"What's going to happen to him?" You find yourself asking, to fill the silence and also because you're genuinely curious.

He looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is the most obvious thing. "He dies, of course."

You swallow, a picture of forced composure. "Of course."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure, not here on the Continental and all that nonsense. But it does not matter. He dies anyway."

He dies. He says that so easily, like a life means nothing. It probably means nothing to him. Your father would probably have only been another life to spend, just another one in the roster, in his eyes.

"I hope you aren't busy," he says, walking to the other room.

"What did you have in mind?" Why can't he just send me away already?

"We shall dine together. I could use the company."

You grumble under your breath, "So much for being a shadow."

"Pardon?" He asks, just before reaching the archway to the dining room.

"I said, it would be my pleasure."

"Hmm."

Two can play at this game, Marquis.

And even more to come - taglist open!

Next in moineau...

More Marquis, just as it should be.

My HotD series works are not going to be discontinued. The next part to fire like yours will be up next, but don't hold me to it 🖤😉

#marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont imagine #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont imagine #john wick 4 #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont imagine

[psychwxrdd]

happiness is a butterfly ୨ৎ

serial killer! roman godfrey, inspired by the lana song, mentions of murder, death of loved ones, grief, post traumatic stress, suggestive and angst in general

Since the day she met Roman, Y/n felt fulfilled, on cloud nine. She couldn't ask for anything better; The most handsome man she had ever met, almost every day spoiled her with expensive gifts, love and care. He was a gentleman to her, and despite the rumors about his family in town, she really liked Roman for who he was, for who he showed himself to be to her. And he was never anything but great.

Except for the times that he wasn't.

They started going out at a vulnerable time for her, her mother had passed away just a few weeks ago. She was an emotional wreck. Grief was the worst pain she had ever felt, it sickened and burned her soul every day and nothing could cure it except bringing her mother back. Dating the boy was helping her distract herself. Not that she was using him as therapy, but having some comfort and someone to hug at a time like that helped her a lot.

They were together, in Roman's room, the atmosphere was heating up. They kissed passionately while Roman lowered the strap of her thin blouse, trying to get to her bra. Y/n had been trying to avoid intimacy as much as possible lately, she couldn't concentrate. Not when all that came to mind were the tragic memories of the night she arrived home and there were police officers all around her place, two coming up to her and telling her that the woman who had once carried her on her lap had been brutally murdered.

You only remember receiving the news, and nothing else from that night. It was all a big blur, and trying to remember only caused you pain and turned your stomach, you wanted to forget at all costs but it had terribly changed the way your brain works. It wasn't a nightmare or a movie, it had really happened and nothing would change that. The trauma would stay with you for the rest of your life.

The police were still investigating who was behind the heinous crime, and while there were no answers, you didn't have peace for any second of your days.

"Roman..." You said almost in a whisper. He seemed to awaken from a trance, his eyes were dark and it was noticeable how much he wanted the moment to go on. He raised his eyebrows a little, looking worried.

"Are you okay?" He asked. You told him to get off you and he did.

It was embarrassing to talk about it, even though you were there almost having sex, it was worse having to verbalize your feelings. It was more intimate for you, it seemed more vulnerable.

"I don't think I'm ready yet..."

He stared at you with an unreadable expression for a few seconds, making you nervous. He smiled slightly then.

"Hey" he ran his hand through your hair "We don't have to rush anything, I understand. Let's do it when you're really ready, hm?"

You sighed in secret relief and looked down at the floor.

"You know... I know you've been going through some terrible things, so if you want to vent or talk... Or anything." He placed his hand on top of yours.

"Thank you, Roman" you smiled sincerely. You'd never thought the rich boy would have such a generous heart. You felt bad for not being able to give him what he wanted, what he needed, you felt useless and immature. You didn't understood your own feelings or validate them, Roman had been nothing but great to you lately. And you couldn't reciprocate.

"Is there anything I can do to reward you?"

"What?" He looked at you confused "Reward me for what?"

"For not being able to have sex."

"Are you fucking kidding? God, you don't need to reward me for this" he looked directly into your eyes, intensely, so that you would trust his words. "I just want you, I want your presence."

He lifted your chin with one hand.

"I'm in love with you, darling. Truly, from the bottom of my heart...Not for carnal reasons."

She held his wrists affectionately, her shining eyes staring at Godfrey's beautiful face. She loved smelling him up close, not just his perfume. The scent of his breath, something like genetic compatibility. It was nice and familiar, sweet. Comfortable. It felt like home.

As much as she felt millions of things bubbling in her heart and stomach, she couldn't say anything. Instead, she kissed him.

"Can we take a shower together?" She asked, shyly.

He nodded. She didn't know what would happen inside, even though they had just discussed it. He ran his thumb across the apple of her cheek.

"Come with me."

Inside the shower, nothing happened, nothing directly. It was something sensual, provocative and intimate, but it didn't end there.

The hot water falling on you, your wet skin touching, hugging each other, the kisses on your neck and the sighs, the strong scent of a expensive lotion... It was the most erotic thing you had ever witnessed, honestly. You weren't a virgin, you had sex a few times before, but nothing ever with this intense energy surrounding both of you.

You felt your desire for him burning, even though you couldn't bring yourself to go forward. Your tongues danced together slowly and passionately, the taste of water, mint, the soft feeling of his lips, the warm tongues that fit together so perfectly and deliciously.

Roman's hands roamed all over your body, caressing, squeezing, whispering hot things in your ear. When he turned off the shower and dried off, you were both still full of desire, and Roman carried you to the bed, covered by the towel. He lay on top of you, and continued the hot kisses. He separated your lips for a few moments, caressing them with his fingers. You opened your mouth slightly, letting him touch your tongue.

You sucked his fingers and he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"Can I relax you?"

You thought a little. It wasn't sex after all, was it? You had already masturbated before. And he wouldn't hurt you, he wanted to relax you, make you feel good. Nothing bad would happen to you.

You nodded, but you had already confirmed with your eyes without realizing it.

Roman used his wet fingers to trace your intimacy, massaging your clitoris slowly and delicately. You closed your eyes, reveling in the sensation. It wasn't like he needed to get his fingers wet, you were already fervently wanting it.

"Don't close your eyes, look here, at me" He said softly. You looked, embarrassed, but the shame soon gave way to the desire to beg for more.

"Can i put my fingers inside? Is that okay?"

"Yes... please."

Roman gave you two orgasms that night. One by fingering you and the other by oral sex. When you both recovered, you put on clothes and lay down to take a nap. The afternoon had gotten cold, you were tired due to so much erotic tension that was felt in the air, it was heavy, intense.

When you woke up, Roman wasn't in the room... You looked around the corner and there was no sign of him. You got up searching for your phone to see what time it was. Shit, you had promised your friends that you would go to the university party with them that night.

"You're awake," Roman said, bursting into the room. "I had to go out to sort out some things."

He was wearing a different outfit than the one he had put on to bed a few hours before.

"I have to go now, I promised Lily and Isabelle that I would go with them to a university party tonight"

"I'll take you" He smiled, and you stood up.

"You can take me home, I'll go from there to the party"

"No, never, I'll take you and pick you up."

"Why don't you go to the party with me?"

Roman seemed to think about the proposal.

"I don't think I'm in the mood to party"

"Me neither" You confessed without realizing "I want to go to have fun, distract myself. Dancing makes me happy"

He dropped you home, and it didn't took long for you to get ready. Your natural beauty didn't need many details, you're a natural highlight.

Throughout the party, Roman was silent. Y/n danced with her friends and for some moment, she felt truly happy for the first time in weeks. Her chest was soft from the laughter that had genuinely escaped from the inside out. She felt light.

Roman was sitting in a corner, watching the girl intensely. There was no expression on his face, except for his eyes that almost undressed her on their own.

The girl exchanged looks with him and smiled, but the smile was not returned. She felt her chest hurt a little, that damn feeling again. She decided to check if he was okay.

"Come on, let's dance" She smiled with her teeth. Roman continued to stare at her without any reaction, leaving her embarrassed. "Is everything ok?"

"I'm leaving. Text me when you want to go home, I'll call you a taxi"

She couldn't keep her smile after hearing that. Her heart throbbed. Had she done something wrong? Why did he change so much in a matter of a few hours?

"Are you mad at me?"

He completely ignored her sentence, turning his back and walking away. Leaving her there, standing there, with her heart in pieces.

She ran after him. "Roman!"

When they were outside, Godfrey took off his blazer and handed it to her. "It's cold, wear it."

"Roman, what's gotten into you?"

"I have some things to sort out"

"Can't we at least dance?"

He stared at her for an uncomfortable long time.

"No." And he got into the car. She was there, with tears in her eyes, hugging his blazer. She felt in panic, helpless, heartbroken. All the times he told her he love her, did he meant it after all? Why was he always changing his behaviour all of sudden?

She got into the party again, but Roman never leaving her mind. So in love that it felt like she would throw up.

Over the next few days, she heard nothing from Roman, no calls or texts, nothing. She didn't want to bother him, but her heart hurt so much, what happened?

One moment, they were experiencing intense touching at his mansion and suddenly he seemed to ignore her existence. He had done this before, but it never lasted longer than one day.

She was even more depressed. It would be the one-month anniversary of her mother's death, and now she had also abruptly cut ties with the person she was desperatedly in love with.

Could it be some personality disorder? One moment he wanted her and the next he didn't, and would that be the case? Were they bipolar episodes? Issues with his mother? God, she questioned herself so much that she felt like her head would burn at any moment.

That Thursday morning, the local police had gotten in touch to say that they possibly had new information about the killer. Y/n was in a mix of panic, anxiety, melancholy and perhaps a possible relief for imagining that justice was coming for the one who took her mother's life.

She just didn't expect to find out that Roman Godfrey was the main suspect. Not only for her mother's death, it was suspected that there was a serial killer around. And that the police was almost sure he was guilty for all of them.

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey x y/n #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard x you #bill skarsgard x y/n #bill skarsgård #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #lana del rey #happiness is a butterfly #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction

[dreamilymagicalhideout]

Coat

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

Marquis Vincent de Gramont x f!reader

~

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

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

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

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

:readmore:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What should I call you?"

"Vincent would be fine"

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

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

"Yes"

"Is it possible for me to help you?"

"No"

"Okay"

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

He was just being a brat.

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

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

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

"That was my sex appeal"

"…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?" Oh! It speaks!

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is this serious?"

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

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

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

"I haven't even packed my things"

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

"We haven't signed the contract yet"

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

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

"You don't need those shoes"

"It seems more like a kidnapping than a work"

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

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

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

"Speak English" You protested.

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

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

"You should teach me more French"

"Say 'je veux te baiser'"

(I want to fuck you)

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

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

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

*fin*

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

#marquis vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #imagine #john wick #john wick 4 #fluff #soft #vincent de gramont fanfiction #bill skarsgard

[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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Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @bigcreatorwombatdreamer

#marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #john wick #john wick franchise #john wick series #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick headcanons #vincent de gramont x reader #yandere!vincent de gramont x reader #yandere vincent de gramont x reader #john wick imagines #john wick x reader #yandere!john wick x reader #john wick x g/n!reader #yandere john wick x g/n!reader #john wick x y/n #yandere john wick x y/n #john wick x you #yandere john wick x you #yandere john wick #yandere #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere alphabet #bill skarsgard #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4

[becdecorbin]

more dopey harpy nonsense asfdsg. this time with Paramirum/Antiphates, being based on a white dove to contrast with Laistrygon's crow/raven.

referenced baby pigeons for Paramirum, too. they're so gormless, I love them.

#arts #laistrygon #paramirum #antiphates #i think marquis would be a rooster if he was a harpy lol #harpies #harpy #i don't imagine this is canonical since antiphates's shapeshifting skills are very limited beyond humanoid and beast forms+in-between