#marquie writes

[unreliablesnake]

Not to be dramatic, but Bill Skarsgård had no reason to look this pretty in those amazing outfits.

[gilsart]

*rises from the ashes* I LIVEEEE

this was a commission for @nerenight, still involving 18th century lore i know little to nothing about (absurd!!!)

close ups bc they turned out pretty:

[sweet-as-an-angel]

So in your Yandere Vincent de Gramont Headcanons

do you think he eventually talked his girlfriend/boyfriend round to have a proper relationship?

Honestly, that all depends on how strong your will is when rejecting Vincent's advances. He's the image of a gentleman with enough money to build another planet if he wanted to, so to have you resist giving in to his grandiose acts of love are, from his point of view, beyond frustrating.

So, if you ever did agree to enter a proper, requited relationship with him, he's absolutely ecstatic. Has to resist the urge to throw a party in honour of this momentous occasion.

Just be warned that, if you thought he was down bad before, you've seen nothing yet. The lengths of his exponential need to keep you close and safe multiply by unfathomable measures the second you've willingly taken him as your partner.

God help the person who discovers this after getting a bit too close to you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist

[marielschism]

Please do talk about the Marquis, all plot bunnies, how an eventual relationship with him would turn out. Any thoughts are most anticipated! 👀

FR?????????????? okay!

so i'm currently working on patron of the arts, a marquis de gramont x artist!reader fic where he is an art patron/cultural sugar daddy who is horrendously down bad for you, an artist in their flop era. i'm making an hc post for it over at my writing sideblog [@marielserif] so if anyone's interested 👀 i'll post it some time next week!

pairing: marquis de gramont x reader note: i think i made him unbearably ooc. whatever warnings: some mature themes/content; unedited; not an entirely healthy relationship (vincent has issues!!!!!!)

general relationship hcs

side note: these hcs operate under the assumption that the reader is unaware of his work.

i am deeply fascinated by yandere stuff, so every time i think of marquis de gramont, i can't help but sprinkle a bit of obsessive yearning on his part (because i honestly think he's the type to do so! he chased john wick all over the world! that should be me!). he is ruthless, ambitious, and determined, and i think this, too, translates into how he deals with his relationships.

i think that he's the type to fall hard for someone, but is also the type to deny the feeling initially, trying to stamp it out of his brain as hard as he can, constantly pretending that he is unaffected by you. he does not need you. he wants you. he has lived through most of his life without your presence, surely he can live through more.

his dedication to denying his feelings leads him into a great number of sticky situations: perhaps he dismisses you a bit too much, and it puts a significant strain on your relationship. he might even end up with you hating him.

he is used to being feared. he is used to being hunted. but he will never get used to the feeling of your hatred, so that could easily force him to act on his feelings before he makes things worse. it is a wake up call for him: he does not want to lose you because of his own pride.

good for you!

when the marquis is in it, good god, he is in it.

i think that marquis de gramont is an incredibly selfish man. if he loves you, you become an extension of himself — and in turn, he will ensure your safety and your joy. you deserve it. you're his.

he's a patron of the arts — he'll get along with you better if you have some appreciation for art and culture. your conversations with him will be longer, too, and sometimes more heated. vincent is very opinionated, and he'll defend his opinions to the death. he'll take you to museums, renting out entire scenic cultural hotspots just for you (and him) to enjoy at your own pace. he is prone to over-explaining when he is excited, so expect that you'll be doing a lot of listening.

if he senses that you're actually listening to him and he's feeling particularly generous, he'll reward you. you know what that entails.

there are times where you're feeling tired, and you're just not in the mood to listen to him ramble about his least favorite painting in the musee d'orsay. he does not fault you for it, but you feel the mild disappointment radiating off him in waves. you'll have to...make it up to him somehow.

he'll appreciate it very much.

anyway, vincent will take you to the ballet, dress you in the finest of things, and take you to the swankiest of establishments. you deserve nothing but the best.

if you inform him that you are uncomfortable with being spoiled like this, he will try to tone it down a little. the code word here is try. he will go back to sending you swarovski-embellished fountain pens in two weeks.

despite this, he's not above accompanying you to places like gas stations or grocery stores. sure, he'll take at least three bodyguards with him to ensure your safety, but he'll be there for you. he's capable of being normal!

(forgot to mention that vincent de gramont is territorial and overprotective at times. what's the use of all of his power if he can't use it protect the one he loves?)

(his brand of protection can feel almost like a prison at times. you'll have to clearly communicate with him about what you want, and you have to be very firm with him if you don't want to feel like you're a bird in a gilded cage. you have to make sure that he knows you won't just take it.)

(you need a backbone to love him. that's the truth of it all.)

vincent is also touch-starved, though he denies this constantly.

he can be an incredibly greedy kisser. he kisses you like he's starving, and he'll hold you like you'll turn into dust if he lets go.

he can be gentle, too — easy does it, and he takes it as slow as you want. languid, lazy, like you have all of the time in the world.

he's also a horrific tease. he's a smug bastard. he'll do everything except kiss you — he'll bite your earlobe, let his lips travel to your pulse, and kiss the corners of your lips. when you whine, he'll pull away with that smirk of his, and leave you to your racing heart. you're flustered as hell, and he looks unaffected by it.

(it's a lot harder for him to keep his composure if you're the one teasing him.)

he reaches out for you in his sleep, even if he is alone. a tired vincent will always reach out for you, no matter what stage of sleep he's in. in his sleep, he'll end up wrapping himself around your entire body like a boa constrictor no matter your size. one time, he fell asleep on top of you, and you had to elbow him awake because he was suffocating you.

(he owns a weighted blanket for when you're not around.)

if you play with vincent's hair, he will complain about you messing up the handiwork of his treasured coiffeur, but he won't say a word. when you pull your hands off his hair, he'll actually whine, and place your hands back. you have to clear your schedule if you want to play with his hair; he will not let you out of his presence until he's dead asleep.

if you really want to see a very stressed vincent, you can deny him your touch for weeks on end. but why would you do that? 😊

he's prone to taking drastic actions to get what he wants. a desperate vincent de gramont is someone you do not want to meet; a desperate vincent de gramont gets results.

so god help those who will try to take you from him.

plot bunnies

i really need to finish this because i have a 7-page paper due in 42 hours

i desperately wanted to write a ballet dancer!reader x patron!marquis de gramont instead of an artist!reader but im going to be completely honest with you i have zero knowledge of the world of ballet and i would NOT be able to do the idea justice.

(your rival dancer goes missing because of your patron. you investigate. things do not go well.)

also another plot bunny: leverage!reader

the marquis keeps an eye on you as leverage over your father, who is under his employ. think caine and his daughter.

he threatens your safety to keep your father in line constantly — but he's grown fond of you, strangely. you have a harmless hobby. it is soothing to watch you work. he is not going to hurt you.

(vincent even has his men protect you from harm. their presence in the area deter would-be muggers. you do not know this.)

at one point, your father grows stubborn, and vincent has to take a very drastic measure to ensure his cooperation.

he kidnaps you. of course he does.

strange things happen.

assistant!reader! you are his faithful assistant, and you get hurt in the line of duty. oh noooo. what happens next??? :OOO

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Could you do a fluffy one shot of Vincent de gramont and the reader trying out clothes

“This really isn’t necessary” she told him as she was surrounded by seamstresses, taking her measurements.

“Oh but it is. It’s the least I can do after you so gallantly volunteered to save the day.” The Marquis remarked, smiling slyly.

Rolling her eyes, she couldnt help but smile at his antics. She highly doubted the validity of his supposed plight, of being unable to find a date to one of the most exclusive charity balls in Paris. All the richest elites from across Europe attended, dressed to the gills in the most extravagant gowns the high fashion houses had to offer. And here she was, a simple public servant, being fitted by the house of Dior. She was giddy.

“I think a form fitting gown in a blush or ivory would be ideal.” One of the seamstresses relayed.

“As long as it’s original, I don’t care about the cost. I’m trusting you won’t let me down.” The Marquis stated.

She couldn’t help but notice the flash of fear that crossed several of the women’s faces. Pondering over what could possibly make the finest fashion house fear someone, she decided he must be richer than she thought. The only fear she could imagine is the loss of a very generous client. Her head spun with the amount of money you’d need to spend, you make them even notice you.

All rising at once and exiting without a word to her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed they never spoke to her, except to tell her how to stand so they could measure her.

Too excited and frankly honored to have her own custom gown made for her, she stepped down from the platform.

“My beauty, they are only going to get some pieces for you to try.” He said halting her from exiting.

“I couldn’t possibly accept any more of your generosity…”

“Oh no no cherie! This is only so they can be sure how clothing falls on you and your preferences.” He assured her with one of his mind melting smiles.

“Oh well then that’s ok, I suppose.”

Just then 3 women returned to the fitting room with 3 racks of a wide range of selections. They all appeared to be breath taking and far out of her price range, but she wasn’t going to be difficult. Straining out a weary smile, she watched as the Marquis gave instructions to one of the girls, and exited to the viewing area.

Smiling warmly at the woman approaching her, she was surprised at the deer in the headlights look on her face. “Thank you for helping me today. I truly am honored to even be allowed to try these things on.”

Confusion passed between the women, until the one closest her, began to undress her. “You are very kind, but your beauty will do our creations a service. We should be thanking you.”

Smiling brightly, she was determined to be as polite and cooperative as possible, no matter how many things she needed to try.

Hours later, she felt how a Barbie doll must feel as she viewed the passing city in the hired car she’d been sent home in.

The Marquis was almost too good to be true. He was unbelievably handsome, polite, thoughtful and respectful. She’d had him looked into and he was active with many charities and took care of his only living realatives; two younger twin sisters, famous in the equestrian community.

His wealth came from toxic parents and investments made with an astonishing amount of revenue. He was perfect in every way, not having so much as a parking ticket, and even after several months, he never attempted to take advantage of the times they’d been alone.

She wasn’t sure that was a good thing. She had been hoping he’d kiss her tonight after dinner, but he’d only kissed her hand with those full sensual lips.

Bringing her hand to her lips, she kissed it tenderly where his lips had caressed her before. Laughing at herself, she was thankful she was alone in the car and thankful the privacy was up.

Peering out the window, she realized they had made it to her home. Thanking the driver, and making her way to her door, she nearly tripped and fell upon entering.

Feeling for the light, she flipped it on and nearly fell flat on her ass at the sight that met her eyes.

Dior packages covering every floor and every surface in her humble townhouse. It was like a fairy tale. She couldn’t help but squeal and run in place, before closing her door behind her.

Staring in disbelief, she wasn’t sure where to start. Pulling out her phone, she noticed a new message from the Marquis.

I may have lied, but it was for good reason. Forgive me?

She chuckled and thought on a witty response.

I don’t know. You’ll have to make it up to me.

Sending it before she could change her mind, she waited for his reply with great anticipation. Finally it came in.

I am yours, to do with, as you wish.

She couldn’t have stopped smiling, if someone put a gun to her head….

[sweetbillwriting]

The Finer Things - Teaser

A Vincent de Gramont story

What was he doing there?

And what the fuck was he wearing?

Ines looked at the tall man walking around in the white, bright gallery. He was dressed in a suit with a dark blue velvet dinner jacket even if it was just noon. She couldn't stop herself from giggling when she saw the man, obviously he tried to make himself more important than he was.

She looked through some paper for the next exhibition while the man walked around with a sour face. He was clearly not impressed but Ines didn't care. He was not their target group. Did he wear a costume? Was he a part of some sort of game theater?

With an eye roll she walked up to him. She expected to try to keep herself from laughing at him but that changed quickly when he looked at her. He had piercing green eyes that scanned her up and down like she didn't belong in her own gallery.

"Mostly trash here," he said with a french accent and looked her up and down. Ines couldn't say if he meant the art or if he meant her. She laughed a bit insecure while the man continued to look at her without blinking. He just stood with his hands in his pants pockets. It was clearly not a costume, it was fitted and in fine material but it still was strange, not even a prince would dress like that.

"So you haven't found what you're searching for then?"

He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows in an amused way and then smirked condescendingly. When he turned his back to Ines she took the moment to twist her face mockingly. He was a snob and clearly the sort of snob that didn't even think he needed to talk to express his standards.

"So what are you doing here? I mean… You're at a gallery in Brooklyn wouldn't… Europe be more fitting for you?" Ines said with fake interest. To be honest she just wanted him out. Many of the artists were her friends and she was sure he soon would say something mean about the art.

The man dragged a finger over a display and looked at his finger with disgust and then looked at her and held out his fingers towards her.

"Napkin, please," said he like she was his servant and for the moment she guessed she was. She also felt a bit embarrassed because it actually was dusty. She walked away with obvious irritated steps, heavy against the floor and searched after a napkin behind the desk. Was there none? Come on, she didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction of saying a comment about the hygiene.

"I want to talk to the owner actually," he said with his weird french accent and it made Ines look up. Now he stood with a man in a black suit next to him. He was beefy and she wondered how he could have walked into the small gallery without her having heard him. He stood and held out a box of napkins towards the tall man who wiped his hands with the same disgusted face. She hadn't forced him to touch the dust, so why did he even think it was so gross? She looked at the beefy guy again. He looked like a bodyguard and it made her wonder again who the man dressed in velvet was.

"I'm the owner?" Said Ines confused and got the man to look at her with furrowed brows.

"You?" He asked, voice full of despise.

"Yes? Do you think I'm too trash for that?" She asked and crossed her arms behind the desk.

The man put his hands in his pants pockets again and walked up to her slowly. It felt threatening and for a moment Ines wondered if she should hide in the back, lock herself in and wait for the man to disappear.

He pulled down the corner of his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. He looked at her for a few seconds and then gave her a charming smile that changed his face completely.

"Not at all… I'm here to see the Pivoine painting."

Ines dropped her face and swallowed hard. Few people knew about that painting. Few knew what a goldmine she had at home in her dining room.

"I don't know what you mean?" She tried but her eyes were glassy.

"Yes you do. The Pivoine of a woman eating an apple?"

She could feel sweat breaking out on her forehead and she looked around worriedly. She had been worried about this day for so long, the day someone had told the wrong person about the portrait of her grandmother made by her lover, the world famous artist Pivoine.

The tall man smirked and reached out a hand towards her.

"Let me introduce myself…" Ines took his hand reluctantly.

"My name is Vincent de Gramont and I will make you into a rich, rich girl."

Ines swallowed hard and let go of his hand.

"I know what museums and private collectors are prepared to pay for it but I don't want to…"

"I wouldn't sell it that way. I have other ways…" he interrupted her but looked her straight in the eyes. His eyes were really mesmerizing and it felt like she couldn't say no to him. He licked his plump lips and for a few seconds she admired his looks. Chocolate hair, flawless skin and those lips… She shook it off like the thoughts were something inappropriate and looked down at the desk.

"What would you win on that?"

She gave him a look again but lowered her eyes when she realized he watched her with the same intense stare.

"We can say like this, I need the distraction. And I love a good art deal."

×

[fionajames]

lams; almost gone

A/N: Guess what? I finally wrote a Hamilton one shot. This is Lams (Laurens x Hamilton) and probably not historically accurate but I tried my best. Send requests! Enjoy!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Raindrops pelted down on Laurens as he emerged from his tent, a look of disdain set upon his features. He made no move to brush the strands of his hair stuck to his forehead out of his eyes, and instead grit his teeth and moved on.

Laurens had been rather bitter and sorrowful since Hamilton’s leave, far away on the field of battle. Laurens had nightmares of bullets singing through the air and into the chest of his beloved, knocking his breath from his body. 

Lafayette continued to attempt the worries that hover over his friend like a constant storm. He attempted to soothe the fretting of the blonde, to provide some calm in Laurens’ storm and swirl of emotions.

He shuffled through the ongoing downpour and to the office in which he worked, unbothered by the water soaking his clothes and trickling down his neck unsettlingly. He didn’t bother to greet anyone who he walked past, and instead he trudged inside with a grim appearance that showed nothing but cold.

Laurens got on with his work quickly, and worked through the day with his candle burning by his side. Not once did Laurens leave the tent - although he did occasionally force himself to merely stand and shake the stiffness from his legs - and instead he walked until the night had taken over.

It was then when a messenger burst through the tent flaps. Laurens looked up in confusion, examining the lithe boy. “Have you a message for me?” He asked plainly, exhaustion seeping through his body like cold water.

“Yes, sir!” The boy chirped, saluting quickly and fixing his stance. “General Washington requires your presence, sir!” Laurens stood instantly, brow furrowing as he dismissed the messenger.

The blonde quickly made his way to the General’s tent, growing increasingly worried at the lack of information he held. When he reached the tent, he was surprised to find none other than Lafayette already standing inside. 

“General!” He saluted quickly, but instantly felt worry seep through him upon examining the look adorning Washington’s face. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Washington sighed, his eyes glistening in the light. Only later would Laurens realise that it was not the light providing the gleam and glisten, but unshed tears. “You may want to take a seat, men.” Lafayette and Laurens exchanged a worried glance, taking to sit in the chairs. “This afternoon, Captain Lee returned and reported that the British made it to the Hudson. We lost some men as they were retreating, among them being Hamilton.”

Ice engulfed Laurens as his breath caught in his throat. “Pardon?” He croaked out, his stomach falling to the floor. He must have misheard Washington, surely. That was the only explanation.

“I'm sorry,” Washington murmured, sorrow covering his features. “He's dead.”

 Lafayette was the first to react, a shrill cry ripping from his throat, tears falling from his eyes quickly. Laurens was frozen. A lump built in his throat, his mind swirling. Hamilton, dead? No. 

He knew Lafayette was sobbing beside him but he remained unmoving in his chair. The world around him continued on, without Hamilton. It was as if he were under water, the world muffled and blurry. A screen of grief and sorrow blocked him from the people surrounding him. 

The screen was shattered into millions of pointed shards of glass when Lafayette moved to stand in front of Laurens, hand gripping his shoulder. He knew the words spilling from his friend's mouth were his name, spoken over and over, but he couldn't hear it properly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Laurens saw Washington pour three glasses of what appeared to be whiskey, and stared emotionlessly as he was handed a glass. Without another thought, the blonde drank the liquid like it was water.

Perhaps he could drink himself to death, then he would be with his Hamilton again.

Laurens quickly ushered Washington to refill his glass, biting back a grimace when the liquid burned his throat. Instead, he let out a quiet sob. Lafayette sat beside him, tears still streaming down his face.

Once the first tear fell from Laurens' eye, he couldn't stop the rest. He sobbed violently, tears spilling from his eyes like rain. He could taste the tears on his tongue, salty and mournful. His heart panged and he cried out as he felt it being ripped from his chest.

The blood seeped from his chest, staining his clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut and immediately regretted it. Images of his boy drowning in murky water flooded his mind, Hamilton sinking to the bed of the river with his life slipping out of his grasp.

“He’s gone,” Laurens whispered, tilting his head up to look at the sky. He imagined Hamilton up there, watching over him. I’ll be with you soon, my dear boy, Laurens thought as he drank yet another glass of whiskey. 

The night slipped away quickly, Laurens drank more whiskey than he could count. At times, his glass was half tears half alcohol. His throat burned and his chest ached. He couldn't see straight. 

The time was nearing midnight when the camp around them erupted with shouts and chaos. Laurens ignored the sounds as Washington and Lafayette stood. 

A voice broke through the chaos, a call. "Where is the General?!"

Laurens froze, his head turning to the entrance to the tent. He knew that voice. He’d known that voice for little over a month, but he felt as though he’d known it forever. That voice was the one that soothed his worries, the voice that cooed to him in the early hours of the morning. The voice that consumed his every waking thought. 

Hamilton’s voice.

The flaps of the tent burst open and in stumbled a man with his ginger hair stuck to his face and dripping wet with water and blood. There was a huge gash on the man’s side, blood dripping from it and onto the floor of the tent.

“Hamilton,” Lafayette whispered before rushing forward and engulfing him in a hug. “Oh, mon petit lion, we thought you were dead.”

“You thought what?” Hamilton murmured, returning the hug quickly. 

Laurens remained in his seat. The whiskey must be kicking in, he thought bitterly. I’m going to be with him soon.

“Jack?” A voice whispered, a voice laced with fondness and worry. Laurens realised the ginger stranger was crouched in front of him, his hands on Laurens' knees. The blonde jerked away from his touch. Washington and Lafayette had left the tent, he realised. They left him alone with a stranger. 

“Get away from me!" Laurens cried out, pushing the ginger away from him and scrambling across the floor. “Jack?” The voice called and Laurens closed his eyes, desperately waiting for death to take him. “Jake, darling?” The blonde opened his eyes to see the ginger crouched in front of him again. He locked eyes with the man, studying the violet blue eyes he had only ever seen in Hamilton. “It's me, Alexander.”

Laurens froze for a moment before launching forward and tackling Hamilton to the floor in a hug, tears streaming down his face. Hamilton began murmuring words of comfort in his ear, soft words to soothe his soul.

They stayed there for a while, Laurens desperately holding Hamilton close. Eventually they went back to their room, sleeping until the sun was high in the sky.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!!! :D

(taglist: @techs-goggles9902 (you said youd read hamilton if i posted it) and @transmascanakin (tysm for adding me 2 that server btw)

[marquisedegramont]

You asked for asks and you shall receive: what kind of aftercare does sub Vinnie like, if any?

read as: x reader / x canon

✦ aftercare!

✦ i think vincent would really like aftercare that doesn’t require much effort from both him and his partner since it would take some time for vincent to relax and untense his nerves after sex .

✦ he’d enjoy staying close to his partner since likes being touchy and clingy n all that ♡

✦ he expects aftercare after every sexual encounter ( as one should! )

✦ i’d say he’s pretty spoiled and just overall really stubborn but since his head is a little too foggy after sex, he’d like getting taken care of by someone .

✦ oh and he definitely will try and use aftercare as a way to eat pastries & sweets ˘ ᗜ ˘ and he always gets them of course! he likes the type of aftercare where he just has a moment to breathe because being an emissary of the high table probably doesn’t give one the pleasure of such .

✦ he’s huddling close towards his partner during aftercare. either to annoy them or just because he wants to . either way his partner is gonna be straight up next to him until either one or both of them sleeps

[knowltonsrangers]

provenance

TURN!Marquis de Lafayette x reader

[tw//: mentions of not eating, undefined depression, and anxiety ahead. please read at your own discretion.]

Food pushing was the first sign of distress, so he’s noted.

Lack of appetite always seems to be the reasoning, the simple “I’m not hungry,” can suffice, but for only so long. It carries, the concern, into a day, then heavily when it becomes a little less than a full week.

He can only sit and abide by it for so long, until he’s ready to keel over, watching once more as your fork becomes a stick, picking and poking at dinner.

It’s a frustrating thing to look at, because no matter how much he asks, you never have an answer for him.

His nose twitches in discontent, yet he pushes forth, swallowing the anger that fights its way forward. Anger that he cannot help you. Whatever it is, you’ve made it clear you did not want to talk about it.

“Is it alright if…if I go take a walk? I need to clear my head…”

You ask, still staring down at your full plate. You’re only asking because you know if you just got up and left, Lafayette would be at your heels in a moment, wondering why you’d want to go out in the cold, at a rather late hour.

But somehow, something in that sentence brings a smile to his eyes, and he nods happily, standing from his seat.

“Shall we?”

He’s invited himself, no surprise there, yet, you’d feel like something was missing if you gone without him. You haven’t gotten to do this in a long while, and it would be your mind that would become your enemy if you took this trip alone.

“I know you do not wish to talk about it,”

Lafayette had helped you into your coat, insisting on putting your gloves and scarf on. After, he shrugs his own coat on his broad shoulders, black leather gloves to his hands.

You had begun the walk in silence, yet, Gilbert broke it after a handful of moments.

“And you do not have to. I can talk this entire time, if you would like,”

You barely blink before another sentence leaves his lips.

“However, I am so very troubled by this, y/n. I do not like it that you have not eaten, and that beautiful smile has been gone from your face for too long.”

Your hands come to shove in your coat pockets, when you take notice of Lafayette’s hand, dangling just at the perfect height at your side. It’s a subconscious feeling, and you heed it, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze.

To his surprise, yet, he doesn’t question it. It’s the first move you’ve made on your own, and he would rather die than have you pull your hand away.

“Y’know…when you have those obsessive thoughts. That sometimes everything happens for a reason?”

Your voice is hoarse, unable to find anything to look at besides the sidewalk below.

“Mhm, I do.”

“It’s a mantra that I keep saying over and over, yet, I still don’t know if I believe it. Everything has been thrown in my face, and then some, and I think I’m at my breaking point.”

Gilbert’s heart sinks into his stomach, and he slows his stride just a bit, feet shuffling at your words. It’s the first time you have brought this feeling to him, and many times you have expressed it physically, just by body language, this was the first time you have spoken it, verbally.

“Well, think of it this way,”

You sniffle, eyes watery as they slowly move upwards to catch his gaze. To blatant surprise, he’s staring right at you.

“Sometimes, people walk into your life for a good reason, and walk out of it for a good reason. Same with things, places—you must take the good with the bad,”

He exhales, and a puff of cold air comes as he does so.

“If you are at your breaking point, y/n, then do not hesitate to talk about it. Whatever you need, that is why I am here. A ‘good cry’, as you call it, may suffice as well.”

You nod, pulling his hand tighter so you leaned on the upper part of his arm.

“Promise me we’ll work on that?”

Most people, in times of urgent desperation, would make the decision to allow the other to solve it for themselves, with necessary assistance.

Lafayette says ‘we’. He insists on seeing you through this, together, and it wells something else in your chest as you can’t help the smile that comes to your face.

Still staring at the sidewalk though, you wouldn’t see it, the look Gilbert gives you. His heart actually skips a beat, he thinks, just watching your smile that had disappeared for so long.

It’s a huge relief to see it back, and you have no idea what it does to him.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, picking at your coat buttons with your unoccupied hand. Gilbert shakes his head, and mumbles something about ‘anytime’ before he waves his hand dismissively.

“If it’s alright with you,”

You start warily, eyes finally able to move off the ground.

“I’d like to go back, I’d hate to waste dinner,”

He sends you that award-winning smile, nodding happily as you begin to walk back home.

“Of course,”

There’s a lapse of silence.

“Oh, and one more thing, y/n?”

He asks, just when you reach the steps.

“Mhm?”

“I love you,”

Your lips twitch upwards.

“I love you too.”

[vmpirevnom]

Clotilde de Noailles every time Lafayette does something stupid:

[bluelolblue]

One Last Time

Summary: After Santino gave his speeches, Vincent decided to piss Santino off even more than he already did. With Santino's emotions mixed and filled with angst from everything what Vincent did to him, he decided to dominate him with John.

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick/Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont (threesome)

Note: It's finally done! It was supposed to be done last week but now it's here! This is a second part of the "LA Devotee" but Vincent is the bottom here. Have some dom Santino. John's not gonna just watch ofc :P. And @evren-sadwrn here you go bottom Vincent :3

Snippet

John watched Santino as he successfully gave his speeches and managed to interact with some of his other guests. He kept his distance, staying mostly in the back, in the shadows with some other bodyguards, keeping an eye on Santino.

As for Vincent. Well...

He's there among others, half way paying attention to his ex talking about his achievements.

However, John didn't like the way Vincent acted there, he just looked so careless, only here to show off. He didn't come here to support Santino. He's here just that others see the Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont and how he cares enough for a new member of the High Table.

Not to mention the way he looked at Santino. With lust and envy, no admiration.

Careless.

Eventually, after the final speech, John made eye contact with Santino. He gave him a soft supporting smile and a nod to let him know he was listening and watching him.

Little things like this mean a lot to Santino. At least from John. A personality trait that Vincent can only dream of.

John and Vincent are so different. Yet, Santino slept with them both.

While the rest of the guests were talking to each other and having drinks, Santino joined John for a while.

"You did amazing, you know." John praised, looking at him in a sympathizing way, offering him a glass of champagne.

Santino chuckled softly, taking the glass, "Thank you. I know, yes." Santino said, feeling proud of himself. He really should be. He had sex with his bodyguard and ex and after that he gave speeches and interacted with others for half an hour and acted like he just didn't get fucked with two dicks.

High Table is gonna be happy with Santino D'Antonio.

"It wasn't obvious, right?" Santino asked quietly, leaning a bit closer to John and hinting at his own neck with his eyes. John didn't seem to notice anything comment on Santino's appearance. Besides few ladies saying how attractive he looks, no one else noticed anything else about him.

"No. Everyone was focused more on your speech." John said, then looked over at the ladies that commented on Santino. "However, you got ladies attention with looking attractive." He smirked and took a sip of his drink.

Santino huffed a small laugh, blushing a little. "Ah, of course." It's nothing new to him. He even sometimes flirts with them just to give them attention. And to feed his ego.

Read the rest on ao3

Quick note: I hope y'all will like it :3. Thank you all so much for support and for reading my silly fanfics, really means a lot to me! I appreciate it a lot! 💙

[evren-sadwrn]

question for the masses: can yu choke someone with the pocket watch chain

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

"How curious. A threat."

[c0nsumemy5oul]

Special Someone on the Side

"You're very kind but I'm afraid it's unlawful, sir." "What do you mean?" "She's married." "I see." "She's married to a British officer." "Oh shit."

No one asked for it, but here are my thoughts on this interaction:

There are things between the lines!

and I wrote them.

Enjoy :)

Hamburr friendship :3 (mentioned hamiliza and lams) 629 words.

It was a pleasant night after Hamilton’s wedding. Eliza was bidding her family goodbye while he was supposed to do the same with his friends, but here they were, getting even more drunk. 

Burr showed up, seemingly failing to have talked to Alexander during the event and was trying his best to ignore the boys and their teasing. 

He was almost done congratulating Hamilton on his marriage and his position as aide-de-camp to Washington, when Laurens deemed the subject too boring and changed it. 

“Well, well, I heard,” He got uncomfortably close to Burr. “You got a special someone on the side, Burr.” He shot Alexander a sneaky glance.

“Is that so?” Hamilton laughed at his boyfriend's antics.

“What’re you tryna hide, Burr?” Laurens slurred in Burr’s ear who’d reached his limit. 

“I should go.” 

Hamilton instantly disagreed. “No, these guys should go.” 

“What?” Laurens turned to Hamilton in thinly veiled betrayal. “No!” 

“Leave us alone.” Hamilton gave him a pointed look. I’m getting us the gossip. 

“Man!” Laurens rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing Lafayette and Mulligan as they stalked away, resigned. 

Being with Hamilton alone seemed to make Burr slightly nervous. 

“It’s alright, Burr.” Alexander smiled a little. “I wish you’d brought this girl with you tonight.” Hamilton couldn’t help seeing that Burr was lacking a plus one at the wedding. 

“You’re very kind,” Burr looked down, fidgeting with the handkerchief in his hand. Hamilton spotted the initials T.B.P. Now who could that belong to? The special someone on the side, perhaps? “But I’m afraid it’s unlawful, sir.” 

Oh? 

Is it? 

In what way? 

Hamilton found himself thinking of his nights with Laurens, in their tent, under the cover of night. 

Had Burr also found a lad during their battles? 

“What do you mean?” Hamilton asked, a light tone and a smirk emerging with the words. If Burr was going to confess something, he wanted him to know he’d be accepted. 

“She’s married.” 

Oh. Hamilton deflated. “I see.”

No matter, they might still be able to work around this. Burr could be with his beau regardless. With a simple divorce, or even a duel for the lady’s honor, it could be manageable. As long as she isn’t— 

“She’s married to a British officer.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Hamilton hadn’t realized he’d said it outloud until he heard Burr chuckle self-deprecatingly. 

“Congrats again, Alexander.” Burr turned to go but Hamilton’s mind was still reeling. 

There must still be a way for his friend and the one he loves to be together. 

“Smile more.” Burr was walking away. 

They could be happy and in love and together without a random British officer in their way. 

“I’ll see you on the other side of the war.” Wait, what? He’ll simply give up like that? 

“I will never understand you.” Hamilton found himself saying. 

Burr turned around, confused. They were alone on the terrace, the quiet lull of people leaving the building could be heard distantly. 

“If you love this woman, go get her!” Yes, he might lose his head in the process, but for love! Isn’t he willing to risk everything to get what he wants? “What are you waiting for?” 

Burr eyed Alexander carefully, trying to discern something before he sighed. “I’ll see you on the other side of the war.” 

He’s beyond saving. Hamilton sighed back, resigned. “I’ll see you on the other side of the war.” 

When Washington had finally given him a command, Hamilton made sure to wound and kill every single British officer he came into contact with. 

To this day, he’s not sure if he did kill Theodosia’s late-husband personally, but she’s living happily with Burr in married bliss and having Hamilton and his wife over for tea and biscuits weekly. 

So Burr won anyway.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Could you do a one shot between bills character in John wick and a quiet noblewoman. Like he begins talking about art and the reader, someone who lost someone important to her and had been quiet ever since, starts to babble with him about art. Everyone is shocked cause she hadn’t talked this much since the death.

“Why do all the French artists paint like this?”you overheard a small American boy ask his Father. The man shrugged his shoulders, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

You really wanted to answer the boy, and to tell him there’s so many more styles if he prefers. The French have so many forms of art ranging from sculptures, to architecture, to elaborate gardens and fashion houses. You wanted to tell him about the gardens of Versailles or the hall of mirrors. Regale him with stories of the amount of effort it takes just to run the hundreds of fountains, spread throughout the vast palace grounds. Tell him about the way French artists fought against oppressors in the most amusing ways, like the story of Christian Dior and the Nazis. You wanted to say so many things, but the words were stuck in your throat, and you felt like the walls were closing in on you.

Just as you were turning around to flee another failure, you came face to face with a breathtaking man. He was not looking at you though, his attention was on the young American boy. He had an annoyed look on his gorgeous features, and just as you realized you were staring at this man he spoke; “Renoir was one of the founding fathers of Impressionism, but unlike Monet and Degas, he was a perfectionist. This is not all France has to offer however, maybe your father should take you to see some of the enormous scenes of battle, that make you feel various emotions. Delacroix is just up ahead.”

The boys eyes lit up and he snatched his fathers hand, enthusiastically pulling him forward to see the famed scenes of war and suffering.

“Degas wasn’t any less of a perfectionist.” You blurted out before you knew what was happening.

The man turned to you and cocked an eyebrow. Grinning slightly, he asked you what your favorite exhibit was in the museum, switching from english to French.

Thrilled to talk about art, with someone who looked like a work of art himself, you began to list your favorite artists currently on display, and only became more enchanted when he shared his impressions of them. You had always been the queen of random facts about various topics, especially art, but as your conversation flowed, you learned several new things from this man.

As you followed him into the newest exhibit to see what he called groundbreaking, you’d nearly forgotten that you hadn’t spoken a word in over a year.

That is until you saw HER.

Emily Devoss, the literal reason your heart had been broken. You’d grown up together and she’d always made a point to make you feel small. She was always the first to point out your flaws, and she’d always seemed out of reach. Seeing her perfect clothing, on her perfect frame, with her perfect smile and perfect hair, reminded you of the worst day of your life.

Completely humiliated and grasping at sanity in front of all your friends and family, you’d received a FaceTime from your husband to be. Heart soaring and hope restored, you’d answered it thinking he’d have an explanation for his tardiness, but were met with him sitting topless by a pool telling you he wasn’t ready for marriage. Completely bewildered that he’d wait till you were standing in a church in your wedding gown,in front of hundreds of people, to decide he wasn’t ready was more than you could comprehend. Then Emily Devoss had come into the frame, and had sat in his lap and bitten his ear and the call had ended.

(A few weeks later, she had dumped him, and he’d had the audacity to expect you to take him back. You’d ignored him; refusing to reply to any communication, or answer your door. You blocked him on everything, but he’d been persistent, calling and texting from strange numbers. Since you weren’t speaking, you never answered calls anyways, but you were able to communicate through text and email. Just not with him.

The thought of any type of communication or contact with that man, turned your stomach.)

Your parents and bridesmaids had seen the FaceTime, since they were all curious where he was too. Overwhelmed and likely in shock, you’d completely shut down and checked out. As the whole situation became more real, and sunk in, You avoided everyone like the plague for the next several months. when it finally came time that you needed to speak, you could not bring yourself to do so. You texted and emailed, the bare minimum, but that was it.

After your mother tried to have you committed, you’d compromised and gone to several therapists. None of them were able to get you to speak. You simply didn’t feel you needed to speak to anyone if you so choose. Being mute wasn’t illegal, and you couldn’t imagine any reason to speak ever again, until today.

“I have been so rude. My name is Vincent, but most call me Marquis. May I have your name?” The beautiful man asked you, unaware of the inner struggle you were fighting.

Unable to take your eyes off Emily more than a few seconds, you bit your lip, as your world began to crumble.

Vincent observed your odd behavior and quickly came to the conclusion that you were distressed by someone in the room. Stepping in your line of sight, your eyes met his and you could physically feel yourself calm a bit.

“I do not know what is happening, but I don’t often repeat myself.” Cocking an eyebrow at you expectantly, he crossed his arms and your mind raced.

“Don’t bother handsome. She’s broken beyond repair. She’s too stupid to speak.” Emily’s voice cut through your heart, and you began to panic.

Vincent spun around to face Emily, and you were certain you’d lost another man to the horrible woman, and could feel the sting of tears in the back of your eyes. You could see they were speaking, but in your current state, only heard white noise and your quickening breath.

Just when you were sure you’d burst into tears and pass out, Emily’s face visibly fell, and she looked utterly terrified. Quickly approaching you, she awkwardly bowed before you, and then apologized, before quickly making an exit.

Blown away by the obvious terror in her eyes, you looked to Vincent once more, and found him holding out his hand for you, gently smiling.

“What did you say?” You found yourself asking.

“Oh I just told your friend Emily, that I don’t take kindly to people distressing the few beautiful things left in this ugly world, and she recognized the error in her ways,” he stated as you took his hand, and walked beside him up to the newest exhibit.

Except you couldn’t take your eyes off of this man. The Marquis radiated confidence and danger, but for whatever reason, you knew you’d never be safer in anyone’s hands.

Smiling when he turned to you again, you told him your name.

[sweetbillwriting]

The Finer Things

His Real World - Part 7

Characters: Vincent De Garmont, The Marquis, From John Wick 4.

Setting: This story is set in my own universe, so not exactly the John Wick universe.

Warnings: 18+, prejudice and stereotypical thinking about nationalities, smut, violence, talk about death and more. This chapter can be triggering!

Ines looked at the Marquis’ violent behavior with a smirk. She hadn't realized what emotions took over watching him transform into a dark force. She bit her lip and wondered what he said to the man. Sexy threats. Showing off his power and maybe leading questions about what he wants to know. While her thoughts drifted away, the victim turned his face toward her. His face was bloody and swollen, but Ines looked at him like she didn't take in the awful sight. The man pleaded something that just made Vincent laugh and stomp him hard in the chest, so the man started to cough in panic for his life.

Vincent let the man cough while turning to Mylan and saying something to him, who gave Pierre a look instead. Ines looked at them interested until Pierre took a grip on her upper arm and started to walk to the door.

“Hello?? I want to stay!” She tried to push him away, but it was impossible. “Vincent? Baby??” Said she upset. The nickname had just slipped; feelings she hadn't felt before swirled around in her whole body and made her think like a worried girlfriend.

“Let me be here with you!!”

She looked back at him but didn't get any response; he had sat down on the lonely chair and looked at his nails with an inspecting face.

Pierre dragged her out of the room while she kicked to get free, but then he pushed her into their suite. Ines couldn't even talk with him; they didn't know each other's language, so she just stood and stomped in the middle of the hallway while Pierre closed the door.

She couldn't understand why Vincent had decided to push her out just when it started to get good. The man had even turned to her, and she felt like a part of the fun instead of just an audience. She had felt power and excitement floating like warm soda in her veins, as well as something that traveled down to her sex. She sat down on the couch and thought everything through, scene for scene. She thought about the man's face and felt another feeling creep up on her. This wasn't normal. This was psychopathic behavior, or even much worse, and she wished to be a part of it. It wasn't about Vincent. It was she who got a kick out of it and wanted to have a bigger one; see the man's eyes get matted and lifeless. She put her hands over her face and bent back on the couch.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” She exclaimed and hit herself in the head. This was just insane. Who had he made her to? She was just a normal Brooklyn girl. Almost. Almost.

When she had calmed down a bit, she took a big glass of Vincent's Jim Beam and then moved to her room to once again put on the Dr. Dre t-shirt. What surprised her also was how fast she actually calmed down. She had felt panicked fifteen minutes ago, but now, when she sat on the bed, a feeling of indifference sneaked up on her. She didn't care about the man. She didn't care about his life. Instead, she started to think about what had slipped out of her mouth. Baby.

She had called Vincent baby. Like he was her boyfriend. The embarrassment took over her body instead, and she shook her head in disbelief. She had really said it to a man like Vincent. He wasn't a baby.

He wasn't anyone's baby, and because of his need to be a hard, elegant man, he wouldn't be pleased. She called him that in front of his security. They probably didn't even know he had let her come a bit too close.

It took time for Vincent to come to the suite, so she ordered up a burger to eat and tried to calm herself down by pouring Jim Beam in her coke. When she had eaten it all except for some fries that were laying dismissed on the plate, the door to the suite opened up. It was Vincent, dressed in a white robe, newly showered. He gave her a long look, and she looked back with interest at him, but he didn't say anything. He walked to his room and closed the door silently. Was he mad? Was he upset with her for the nickname? Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she sat down on the couch, waiting for him to come out of his room. She didn't even know if he would come out, but she decided to wait there as long as she had energy.

An hour later, he came out to her, and to her surprise, he just sat down next to her. He was dressed in a loose-fit shirt and pants in beige linen, and his hair was still unstyled. He breathed deeply and looked in front of him for a while.

“To see someone die is something else... I didn't think you were ready,” he said, then looked at her. He laid his hand on her underarm, and it made her soften. She would have been angry if he hadn't looked at her so sweetly and dragged his fingers over her skin so softly. Ines nodded a little and licked her lips. It wasn't meant as a seductive move, but it made Vincent move closer to her and kiss her with perfect pressure. She would never push him away, especially after having built up so much energy from seeing him hurt that man. There is so much excitement.

Their kisses became deeper and deeper, like they searched for something inside of each other. Ines could feel his hands slowly move their way up her thighs, but he let her go with one hand to be able to fix his crotch. Ines released his lips with a smack and looked down curiously. It was embarrassingly obvious that he was already fully hard and probably didn't wear any underwear under the loose pants. Vincent tried his best to hide it; he probably didn't feel it suited his elegant ways to get erect by some kisses.

Ines looked fascinated by his stiff cock. She had believed his injury had made it impossible for him to perform sexually, but the impressive hard on that tried to escape his pants told her something else.

“I didn't think...” she said as a reflex and looked at his face. Vincent looked at her with heavy eyes and just shook his head. Ines didn't know what that meant, but the lust took over, and she attacked his mouth again. Vincent answered fast, and when she straddled his lap, he just took a greedy grip on her ass and encouraged her to grind against his crotch. Ines giggled, helped him take off his shirt, and then caressed his flat chest while moving over his cock. Vincent leaned his head back against the couch headrest and enjoyed how her lips traveled down his neck and chest.

“It was...” His voice betrayed him, and he cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago for me... Being with a woman,” he said when he realized Ines’ attention had started to glide down to his erection. “I can't even remember.”

Ines glided down between his legs and dragged teasing fingertips over his shaft, which answered with a light movement inside the pants. She giggled and kissed his head over the fabric of his pants.

“We will remember together, okay?”

Vincent looked down at her and nodded, then he himself unbuttoned his pants slowly. It felt like he wanted to taunt her, but it was because of nerves. His blushing cock slapped up on his stomach. Vincent had seemed nervous earlier, but he smirked proudly when Ines looked at his size.

“Like you haven't seen that I've always had an impressive bulge,” he said cockily, and it made Ines laugh and take his erection in her hand. It was hot and thick, in a lovely blushed color. Vincent made a liking sound and pushed his crotch out like he showed off his most prized possession. Ines dragged her hand over his thickness and let her palm roll over his tip to collect the pre cum. She looked at him with big eyes. The art work. He was completely naked in front of her while she was fully dressed, and in that moment all she did was to admire him—the perfect craftwork he was. If he was beautiful in his luxury suits, he was even more beautiful now, exposed and vulnerable in front of her.

Vincent looked at Ines intensely, but with heavy eyelids still. He breathed deeply and looked calm and pleased.

“Take your clothes off.”

He had lost the accent again and sounded just as American as herself. It was weird how that felt exotic for Ines, but she guessed she liked every surprise he could give her. On her wobbly legs, she stood up and pulled off her clothes with the help of Vincent, who pulled off her pants to her knees and let her do the rest. He looked at her with big, glassy eyes and dragged his thumb in the corner of his mouth, like the vision had gotten him to salivate. He leaned back and let her straddle his thick thighs. He laughed when he dragged her hands from her waist to her breasts, where he, with light fingers, teased her nipples.

“I've forgotten… This feeling...” he said and laughed again. His voice sounded much kinder and softer without the accent, and Ines liked how sensitive and soft he suddenly felt. She took grip of his cock behind her, and with some awkward struggle, they together succeeded in pushing his cock into her.

“Oh fuck, you're so wet... God,” he said, groggily. Ines moved rhythmically up and down his cock and rolled her hips extra skillfully when Vincent looked down at their connection. When Vincent noticed her rhythm started to fall, he flipped her down on the couch in one swift motion. She could feel his back tense in an alarming way but didn't say anything because Vincent pushed into her hard while kissing her in a way that made her wonder if maybe he had other feelings for her. She was sure she was in love with him, even if he was such a mystery.

×××

“Vincent Beaumont," he said with a raspy voice. He was calm and soft after their lovemaking, and maybe he spilled his real name because of post-sex hormones. Ines laid on his chest and looked up at him when he finally answered her question. He was pink in the cheeks, and his hair was messy with sweat.

“I lived in New Orleans as a kid. But I am French.”

Ines couldn't stop herself from looking at him skeptically. He had lied quite a bit.

“Like, because you want to be it?”

Vincent looked offended and furrowed his brows.

“No. Both my parents were French. They were just stupid enough to leave France and move to my dad's family. Cheap fucking Americans.”

Ines sat up, and now she looked offended.

“Is that what you think about me too?”

“No. If you had met them, you would have understood me. They were trash. My aunt's husband smoked some cheap cigarettes, and he needed to spit often because they were... cheap, but he spit in the same glass jar that stood on the table. Jar with his brown, fucking cancer spit.”

Ines made a disgusted face. She understood him. It didn't sound at all like his life now. He had really turned his life around.

“I moved here when I was fifteen, after my parents' deaths.” He gave Ines a pointed look and pushed away his sweaty hair from his forehead. She swallowed hard and looked away. She understood what he was saying without words, and it made her sit up awkwardly and look around in the room. Vincent dragged a hand over her naked back. Long fingers dragged over her waist and searched for her breast. He didn't seem to think much about what he had insinuated.

“I won't make a thing of this, so you shouldn't either,” he said, taking a soft grip around her upper arm and trying to drag her down over him again. Ines followed his movement and laid down on his hairless chest again. She could hear his heartbeat and smell his scent close. It was everything she had wanted for the last few weeks. Be close to him and get treated like she was worthy of his attention. It felt different now when she lay there. She was still as happy being close to him and still as attracted to him, but other emotions had also blossomed.

Her own heart beat heavily in her chest. There was something else there that she couldn't say she had ever felt before. There was potential. He wasn't like her ex-boyfriends—boring and wanting to hold her back. Vincent was menacing to society and didn't expect her to be a good girl; he probably didn't even really know what a good girl was; for him, it meant just manicured nails and good table manners. There was something there. It was something special. Ines kissed his cheek, buried her nose behind his ear, and breathed him in. Vincent made a little sound; maybe it tickled, but he stayed as close as possible anyway. Ines smiled and closed her eyes. This was special; maybe it was love.

They connected one more time before falling asleep. The first time hadn't she come, but that time she did to Vincent's luck. It was obvious he had covered up his bruised ego when she said she hadn't come, but he let it glow even more when he noticed her come over his dick. She wondered how he had taken it if she hadn't come at all and could picture him being childishly pouty and maybe even being a bit upset at her, like she could control it. She was happy she had come, not just to feel the ecstasy from an orgasm but also to escape from seeing Vincent in a sour mood. He was a kid when he was in a bad mood, and while she looked at him sleeping, she wondered if it was maybe because he had never really been a child when he was young. Just like herself. Both of them wanted to act out now, even if they were grown up and now play violently and messy.

×××

Maybe it was weird that Ines didn't ask him any questions about what had happened in the conference hall after she had left, but other things took all her attention. The relationship with Vincent. Their relationship actually looked more and more like a couple's relationship. It went much slower than she was used to; he was much more stoic than other guys she had been with, but he let her sleep in his bed. They kissed in the morning and had sex a few times more. They did things together; he had taken her to the ballet, the opera, and luxury restaurants. He never kissed her in front of people, but he always acted like a gentleman, treating her like a lady. The lady she obviously wasn't. She fantasized about making out at the opera, playing with his cock at the ballet, and getting fucked on the restaurants’ toilets. She knew it would never happen; he didn't even let her touch his hair in public. She had tried once, and he had ducked so fast, like her hand was filthy. She invited him into her world of hip-hop and Brooklyn art. He wasn't amused and didn't seem to listen to music at all when he wasn't at the opera to show off in front of rich people. After a while, he let her into his world. His real world. His glossy fashion magazines and violent movies. They weren't any expensive Hollywood productions; instead, they were cheap darknet productions of masked men torturing crying men, speaking in languages she had never heard before. Vincent could even laugh while looking at it. Ines didn't feel much; the blood was sometimes gross; otherwise, it didn't give her much. She wanted it for real.

Their relationship was probably strange, but when she laid in his arms at night, talking about cute cats they had met or stupid people they had seen that day, it was so normally safe and sweet. Ines liked it all. The darkness and mystery, but also his boyish charm and pouty mood.

×××

“I have a new speculator tomorrow," he said while they sat at the minimalistic restaurant with a view of the whole of Paris. Ines chewed her venison slowly and looked up at Vincent. He was dressed in a burgundy suit that made his eyes pop.

“Oh? I… I haven't thought about the painting in so long.” Ines laughed, embarrassed. “Almost forgotten it?”

Vincent looked at her. She was dressed in a silky black dress that ended under the knees. She had started to find her own classy style, much black and different textures. He liked it. It was sexy and fit her personality.

“This is a really important person. A really important person. I wonder if you want to see it all this time.”

Ines looked at him with big eyes and then smiled big. She took his hand that was lying on the table and hugged it into hers. Vincent answered by braiding their fingers together and smirking, pleased.

“Oh my god! Yes!” She giggled with heated cheeks and a beating heart. There were many emotions in her chest. She still felt a sense of shame for how much she liked the violence, but the excitement took over. She had dreamed about that day in the conference room and woke up with a broad smile on her lips.

“Maybe you even want to be a part of it?” Vincent said this and leaned back in his chair, twirling his red wine glass.

Ines swallowed hard. She didn't know if she dared to do that and looked out of the window. Vincent played with her fingers and exhaled.

“It would be special for me.”

Ines turned her gaze toward him with furrowed brows. She didn't really understand why he wanted her to hurt someone so much.

“Hm?”

Vincent licked his lips and looked at their hands.

“That man… He hurt me really badly, and it would just be amazing to see you kick his teeth in,” he said with a low voice, so no one would hear him. Ines gave him a small smile. It was warming how she was important for him that way, and she played with the necklace around her neck.

“God, I just want to kiss you. You're so sweet,” she said, looking at him warmly. Vincent gave her a similar look, and she wondered in silence what this was for him. They did really romantic things together; for three weeks, they acted like a couple.

“I want to suck that big cock when we come home,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. Vincent lowered his eyes, and she could see a blush on his pale cheeks.

“Not that sort of talk in a restaurant,” he said, shaking his head. He didn't give her the sort of scolding she had done before, but he still corrected her. Now she liked it, she liked to tease him.

“You just said you want me to kick someone's teeth in, but I can't talk about your third leg.” She continued to tease and made him close his eyes hard. It was always difficult if he got that way of feeling shame, hornyness, or a bit of both. He cleared his throat and continued to eat in silence. Ines giggled to herself and continued to eat too, but even then she thought about the suffocating feeling of his cock in her throat.

“How did he hurt you? Was it your back?” She spoke carefully when the hornyness had slowed down and she thought more about what he had said. Vincent looked up at her, but was silent. He turned instead to a waiter and ordered something. He didn't talk again until the chocolate fondants stood in front of them. He took a big spoon of it and chewed slowly.

“He's my ex.”

×