Imagination Lane @imaginationlane - Tumblr Blog

Helpless

PAIRING marquis vincent de gramont/f!reader

SUMMARY vincent decides to take john's younger sister in the hopes of baiting him into coming to find her. unfortunately, his hopes of keeping things clean and easy don't go as planned.

WARNINGS kinda stockholm syndrome ig, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, wall sex, semi-public sex, canon-typical violence/death

REQUESTED yes/no

WORD COUNT 12.3k words (sorry y'all)

NOTES so a couple important notes i kept it pretty ambiguous in that sense so if you want to imagine that reader and john are biologically or adoptive siblings that's completely up to you. also i went a little overboard but like... i can't help myself sometimes. the title is based on a hamilton song because i too had a hamilton era.

At some point rules begin begging to be broken. This was something that you learned when you were young. Being the baby sister of one of the most well-known assassins in the world meant a lot of things. It meant that you were seeing violence at a young age, it meant that you were mainly staying in Russia when you weren’t in America, and it meant that you were under strict supervision to ensure that you weren’t murdered in retaliation.

But growing up you didn’t see things that way. You never had a normal life. There were small, fleeting memories that you had of being with your parents. The tiniest hints of visions of riding piggyback on your dad, or helping your mom bake cookies. You, of course, were too young to remember the tattoos that littered your parents bodies and the nights that they would put you to bed covered in blood.

At some point, your parents died. You couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old when John pulled you into the corner and told you that something had gone wrong. They went out for work, and they never came home. You were too young to know what that meant, but John promised to teach you how to protect yourself from that point forward. He kept true to that promise.

For the next few years he did his best to protect you, making sure that you were only with the people he trusted most. When he grew distrustful of the Russians he sent you to Japan to stay with Shimazu for a while. For a majority of your teenage years you remained in Osaka. Akira was a couple years older than you and took up the big sister role while your brother was away, and he was away most of the time.

But when he was there he began teaching you how to protect yourself. It was supposed to be nothing more than that. John taught you how to keep yourself safe because he knew that he had already indirectly involved you in the life that he was leading. Even having you stay at The Continental puts you in a lot of danger. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t the best decision for you, because sending you out into the world while carrying the Wick name was like sending you into a bullfighting ring in a red jumpsuit.

Despite the training and the education about the ways of the world, John never wanted you to get involved. He didn’t want you to become an assassin, he offered to fulfill large contracts to put you through college because he wanted you to have a normal life. Winston was willing to help you get a last name change discreetly through his contacts as well, but at some point your constant supervision started having an inverse effect.

As you got into your later teen years you felt the urge to rebel. There was no logic in the decision that people were protecting you just because they wanted to hold you back. There was no adult reasoning when you started to believe that people were isolating you from the world because they wrongly believed they knew what was best for you. The decision was made by the time you turned seventeen. You were going to become an assassin.

John had you staying a stint at the New York Continental for a few months around your seventeenth birthday. It was that night that you snuck out with a few weapons that you stole from around the city. You stashed everything into a bag and went to work. After successfully incapacitating another assassin and taking their phone, you had full access to all the minute to minute updates that any other tracker would have.

You were too stubborn for your own good, and you put yourself in more danger than you probably should have when you started working under the High Table at night. Nobody knew about it, nobody suspected that you were sneaking out of your room to take jobs. Nobody even noticed that you just happened to have more money in your bank account because you were discreet about it.

A few months into it you selected a false name to run missions under. Nobody would know who you were by name, and nobody could recognize your face because you wore a mask to cover it. It felt like you were living a double life, pretending to be innocent and easy going by day and running throughout the streets collecting bounties by night. You became somewhat infamous around the city, but that was mainly due to how you had grown up.

Violence was always a part of your life, and having been trained by one of the best assassins in the world, everything that you knew made you more skilled than the average person. You were quick with a gun and incredibly distrustful, making it difficult for people to take advantage of you. Throughout the years you learned how to do other things than use guns. You learned hand to hand combat over time, you learned how to use just about anything to kill someone, but most importantly, you needed to learn endurance.

Things changed when John married Helen, though. He got out of the life, and you knew that your involvement in his would put him in danger. He didn’t know what you were doing, you knew that he didn’t suspect it mainly out of willful ignorance. The signs that the hotel clerk job you worked at The Continental wasn’t the only thing you were doing to keep yourself entertained were all there for him, but he didn’t want to read them. He didn’t want to believe that the sister he had vowed to protect was running around doing the very thing that he was trying to protect her from.

Sometimes slip-ups happen, and sometimes people who stay at The Continental happen to figure out how to take your mask off and recognize exactly who you are in an instant. It was just one person. One person who saw your face and knew your name. Even though you killed him, even though the only person you knew to have seen your face was gone, you felt as though you were scared into submission.

That was the last night that you stayed in The Continental before you got a cheap apartment, and the last time that you spoke to John for the next five years.

Despite attempting to remain hidden, the High Table knew everything. They knew who you were because you worked for The Continental, but they also knew who the person who ran around with a mask concealing their face was. They knew your name, where you lived. They knew everything, but they saw no reason to invoke it. The thing was. As careful as you tried to be, cameras were everywhere. People trying to get a reward for figuring out that you were Wick’s sister were everywhere. At some point, the High Table found out your identity but did nothing about it. Nobody figured that bringing you in was going to do anything to help them stop John Wick, so they didn’t.

With the changing of the guard, though, comes new ideas. Marquis de Gramont knew that he wanted to be the one to stop John Wick. The High Table was angry about the murder of The Elder, they were angry about everything that John Wick had done over the years and his refusal to die. They were willing to do whatever it took to stop him, so they allowed the new Marquis to do whatever he had to do. They essentially took off any rules or laws that they had placed upon other leaders because they knew that desperate times call for desperate measures. John Wick had gone too far this time, and the Marquis believed that the High Table had not gone far enough.

There was an exceptionally high bounty placed on a man in Paris. You were there in an instant, it was a life-altering amount of money. With those riches, you may never have to worry about anything anymore, maybe you could even go see your brother again. You couldn’t have known that it was a ploy. Someone who the Marquis hired to be killed by him so he could trick you into coming back with him. How could you have known that?

The feeling of a light rain coating your hair, a thick summer humidity filling your lungs, and your chest heaving was the only thing keeping you grounded as you rolled underneath a moving car. This man was worth fifteen million dollars, and you would be damned if some traffic was going to keep that money from you.

He had you beat every step of the way. Every reflex that you usually had seemed to deteriorate as time went on. He was fast and he was smart, it was like he knew which move you were going to make next before you even made it. The other people who had been chasing him for the last half hour had been killed or stopped running, but you didn’t. You didn’t give up, it wasn’t in your nature.

That running came to a halt as you both reached a standstill. There was a construction zone in front of you, men in all different kinds of working gear stopped to look at the two of you. A man with a nose filled with flood and a face littered in bruises, and you, mid-day, wearing a mask that covered the bottom half of your face and goggles that covered your eyes. On warmer days, the full mask was a chore. You were both a sight to behold for people who weren’t assassins, but that sight was cut short by a bullet ringing through the air.

It wasn’t your bullet, but it brought the man you had been chasing to the ground. A small splash from the puddle he landed in and the sound of men dropping their tools and running before they become the next victims made you fully aware of what had just happened. You lost.

As you went to turn around you heard a voice behind you, a thick French accent reaching out for you to listen to him speak. You wanted to walk away, you always walked away, but something inside of you forced you to turn around.

“I saw you chase him. Perhaps we should split the money?” He didn’t seem out of breath, in fact, he didn’t seem bothered by anything at all. There was no sweat on his clear skin, no hair askew. His tailored gray suit barely looked like it had gotten wet, but somehow he had managed to be here. “I knew that you would corner him here, it’s pretty obvious if you’re from the area.”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” He seemed insincere, but everyone in this line of work seems insincere. It wasn’t like you were surrounding yourself with saints.

“How do you know anyone won’t kill you?” He walked a bit closer, but you stood your ground. You wanted to walk away, to tell him to keep the money. But something in you was keeping your feet glued to the ground. Maybe it was the promise of 7.5 million dollars, maybe it was the brightness of his eyes.

“I don’t. That’s why I don’t trust anyone.” He should be able to deduce that you weren’t very trusting considering that you were concealing half of your face. In that moment the only thing that you could think about was the time that you were found out, the time that someone told you exactly what your name is and how they’d found it. Was there a chance that this was another person who knew your truth?

“So don’t trust me for long, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to take all of this money. I couldn’t forgive myself for that when you did all of the hard work.” The feeling of the rain against your head came back into your consciousness as you finally found it in yourself to move your feet. But you didn’t take a step backward, you didn’t run away from his outstretched hand. You took it into your own as you shook it.

“Deal.”

Probably one of the worst choices you could have made at that moment, but he was so alluring to you. The feeling of a needle piercing your neck filled your senses as your world began to go dark. You could hear a car pulling up, people shuffling out of it behind you. Of all the times to try and trust someone, this was potentially the worst time that you ever could have chosen. But there was just something so distracting about him. The only thing you could think of and your body went limp was the way that his eyes looked, because you should’ve known from the second you looked into them that was the real reason you had chosen to stay.

As you came back to reality you found yourself in a white and and gold room with framed paintings covering the walls to keep them from looking plain. It would have been a comfortable place to be had there not been four men standing by the door with another by the large set of windows when you woke up. The moment you tried to sit up and leave was the moment you realized that you were strapped to the bed by your wrists.

One of the men caught your eyes, and you realized from the air hitting your cheeks that these men had been looking at your face for hours. You watched the same man leave the room, presumably to go get his boss. It didn’t take you more than a few glances around to realize where you were. This was either an incredibly illustrious assassin, which you doubted, or the Marquis.

The same man you had seen in the street walked in. He was wearing a black and red suit now, how long had it been since you were awake?

“We were starting to worry that you wouldn’t wake up.” He said, shooing the other men out of the room as he pulled up a chair beside the bed. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’m assuming the new Marquis?”

“You assume correctly. More importantly, do you believe that I know who you are?”

“Of course you do, why else would I be here?” You responded, your eyes wandering over his face. He was an attractive man, you’d give him that, but you knew that you were here because he wanted to get to your brother. “You’ve taken over because of what my brother did, so you’re proving a point by being the one to kill him. Very commendable.”

He didn’t seem to enjoy the sarcasm and venom dripping from your mouth. But you didn’t back down as he stood up, nor did you show any sense of pain when you felt him gripping your jaw tightly. He wanted to get a reaction out of you, and you weren’t giving him the dignity of giving it to him.

“If you’re going to kill me just do it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill you. Not now anyway.” He said, letting your face go and patting your cheek. “If I killed you, John would go on a killing rampage and maybe get here eventually, but we don’t have that kind of time. You’re going to bring him here.”

“How am I supposed to do that? We haven’t talked in years, I don’t have his phone number. I don’t even think he has a phone.”

He sighed and sat back down. “I noticed that. We went through your phone. It’s going to make things difficult, because I can’t tell people that I’ve taken you here. It’s not a good look to kidnap women. But I need him to know. So, you’re going to help me reach out to John.”

“Could you kill me instead?”

He didn’t say anything as he left the room. It would be another few hours before you were let out to eat, you weren’t given handcuffs again but you were still monitored. Though you knew there would be no point in trying to escape. What would happen? If you left the room you would just go and try to kill him, if you did that someone even angrier would take his place and kill you and John. If you were to run away you could try to lay low in Paris for a while but the chance that he’d place a large bounty on your head made that a bad option too. There was nothing more you could do, the only thing you would hope for was the ability to stop them from killing John while you were on the inside.

Despite the reluctance from both parties, things change over the following week. It took until lunch on the second day you were there for him to tell you his actual name, because you didn’t really know it at this point. You knew that he was the new Marquis, but you didn’t look very far into it. Granted that he already knew your name, you thought it would be fair to explain to him how you had ended up choosing the codename that you were using.

That night there wasn’t much difference. He walked you back to your room to make sure that you didn’t try to run away, you went back into bed and repeated the same exact thing over in the morning when he woke you up at dawn. Vincent didn’t spend much time around you, and you often refused to use any name for him at all when you spoke to him because it ‘humanized him’. But that didn’t change the fact that you stopped yourself from using Vincent as the name you spoke in your brain instead of his title.

The next day was more of the same, but things changed for you that night when you decided to utilize the balcony that was attached to your room. Nobody was really babysitting you anymore and you’d never spent all that much time in France. It felt nice to be able to appreciate the warm summer night air, to look out and to see the Paris landmarks that you had only ever seen on the television. But you were shaken from that when you watched cigar smoke billow past your face.

There was a room to your right side, another balcony attached to it. On that balcony was one of Vincent’s bodyguards as well as him. His bodyguard had stepped out to light a cigar instead of watching the bedroom door, but Vincent was merely sitting there.

“You shouldn’t let people sneak up on you like that.” He commented, your eyes locking on his as you took a seat on the ground. “Would you like a chair?”

“Do you… have extra chairs?”

“Of course we have extra chairs. Would you go get her one?” The man looked disappointed, putting out his clearly expensive and just lit cigar. He sent a glare in your direction before heading off to get something for you to sit on that wasn’t the ground.

“I think he might bludgeon my head in with that chair.” You commented, your eyes following the shadow that was walking away from Vincent’s room.

“If looks could kill.” He responded, turning back to watch him before looking back over at you. “They can’t, though. He knows nobody is allowed to touch you.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning your head against the wall before standing up. “Since when is that a rule? As far as I remember, you stabbed me with a needle and let me fall on the ground.”

“Your memory fails you, I didn’t let you fall.” Now that you were thinking about it, you don't remember hitting the ground when you were tranquilized. You remembered falling, but you didn’t remember hurting yourself. It made more sense now that you didn’t require any medical attention when you woke up.

“Who caught me? It wasn’t him was it?”

“Hmm? No.” He didn’t answer your question, though. He merely turned to look out at the skyline, his eyes seemingly entranced by the view. “I used to dream of this, you know? This title, this job.”

“Yeah? You don’t sound so impressed by it.”

“I am, I like having power. I like being able to run the High Table because other people weren’t doing a very efficient job. But… I’m beginning to understand why they weren’t doing very well.” He glanced down, his head turning back to look at you before he caught something behind you. You turned around as well, accepting the chair and watching the man behind you walk away. “Could you tell him he’s dismissed for the night?”

You didn’t need to tell him, it was like his ‘Can I go to bed yet?!’ Radar was going off in his brain because he very clearly heard what Vincent said. You told him anyway though, despite knowing that you didn’t really have to. There was no telling why you were so willing to do whatever you were told by this man, but you were choosing to believe that it was because you were a helpful person.

“What makes you think that the job isn’t easy?” You asked, turning your attention to the man just a little over ten feet away from you. He always looked beautiful, but the bathrobe he was wearing was shimmering just like many of his suits did, and the reflection of the moonlight on his bathrobe and his cheeks made you wish that you could see him up close. You stopped your brain from thinking that for too long, you could not grow more interested in this man than you already were.

“How is it going right now? I brought you here without any plan of how to tell your brother that I have you.” He was correct about that, but you knew that wasn’t entirely his fault.

“How could you have known I didn’t have my brother’s phone number?” You questioned, though you smacked yourself the moment you said it. You were trying to comfort him now? What were you going to do next? Parkour over to the balcony he was on, pat him on the head and tell him that he was doing a good job? You were being absolutely ridiculous, there was no way that you were actually being nice to someone who had kidnapped you a few days ago.

“I suppose, but now… I guess I’ll figure it out.” He sighed and stood up, straightening out his pajamas. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re being nice to me.”

“Sounds like you need some sleep, I’m not a nice person.” That wasn’t true. John had made sure that you kept your humanity growing up because he had lost so much of his. You understood the importance of being nice to people because it had been drilled into your head like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

That small, self-satisfied, smile that tugged at the corner of his lips was almost enough to make you want to either kiss him or smack him, but you tried to keep every thought at bay as he looked over at you. “You should sleep soon, we’ll be up early tomorrow morning.”

You fought the urge to say goodnight as you nodded, standing up and stepping into your bedroom. You hated yourself for everything that happened that night the following morning, especially because you couldn’t keep your thoughts at bay when you were dreaming. It wasn’t the most inappropriate dream you’d ever had. You’d really only kissed him in the dream. A few times, while you were sitting in his lap. But it was mainly innocent. Nothing to worry about if it hadn’t been about the man who was currently plotting a way to kill your older brother.

The rest of that day was strange, everything about it was off because you knew that there was something brewing in your mind that you would rather not be there. He was attractive, but you needed to leave the thoughts at that. It was okay for you to know that he was good looking, it wasn’t like you couldn’t see it. But you didn’t want to do something like that, it would be wrong. Wrong because he was after your brother, and wrong because you had no choice but to stay at this place that he brought you to.

By the end of the first week you were both incredibly frustrated. Despite the fact that you had been there for a while now and he hadn’t found grounds to contact John or any other mutual acquaintance, you weren’t being much help. You didn’t want to help, but you knew that the best thing you could do was get John there because he found a way to get himself out of everything. You trusted that he was going to be okay.

Maybe you were in denial. The truth about John was something that you couldn’t fathom, a pill that you couldn’t bring yourself to swallow. He was going to die if he kept doing what he was doing, and there was no way for him to just ‘get out’. He tried it before, he got out for a long time. But things changed, and he didn’t heal when he lost Helen. You wanted to believe that your older brother was invincible because that was how you had always seen him, but someday you were going to have to face the truth. He’s mortal just like everyone else, and it’s just not possible for him to try to kill every single member of the High Table when they were just going to keep being replaced. You couldn’t face that, though. And for now, you just needed to worry about keeping your shit together and not getting any sort of emotional attachments to anyone who you knew would only be temporarily in your life.

Nothing that you needed to do was really going according to plan. You couldn’t think of anything that would be a viable way to contact John, and Vincent was growing increasingly frustrated by the fact that he felt like he was making himself look weak. The worst part of it, though? You want to make him feel better about it. There’s something so sad about watching someone who was so excited to be put into power act so dejected about things not going his way.

It wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t just your human nature that was making you feel bad for him, it wasn’t you being a helpful person. It wasn’t even you being a caring person. It was something about him that was drawing you to him. Something about the very man who was trying to bring the life that you knew crumbling down being in shambles himself that was making you want to help him.

It was growing worse by the day. Throughout the second week he didn’t just allow you to have meals whenever you wanted to because he needed you to help him out with more things. He needed someone who understood how things really worked, and he believed that you could be an asset while you were around. There was no real reason for you to say no, it wasn’t like your life was super exciting right now.

So, he had you working on the jobs that he didn’t feel like doing. Taking care of training, feeding the horses, just about anything that he felt like he was becoming too busy for. In turn, the two of you would eat together. The dining hall was large, but there was never anyone else there. He told you on the first night that he ate alone in this room, all twenty seats at the table completely empty. The size of it was why you sat to his side while he was seated at the head of the table, otherwise you’d just be shouting at each other across the room.

Having meals with him every day, meeting with him at dawn to discuss what you were going to be doing that day and plotting how you were going to contact John together for at least an hour meant that the two of you were spending an awful lot of time together.

Halfway through the second week, you were beginning to feel like you had dug yourself a grave so deep that there was no way you were going to get yourself out. It felt as though the dirt below you had turned into quicksand, and you were trapped in a mess of your own design.

The smell of the burning candles in the center of the table filled the room as you finished your dinner for that night. Vincent was calmer than you had seen him, though he was always so on edge that you could see his eyes twitching. He wanted to make himself look as calm as possible, and at this point you could see through it. But not tonight. Either he had finally figured out that you could read him, or he was actually incredibly at peace.

“I have something I need to tell you.” He looked excited as he turned to look at you, a small smile on his lips as he took a sip of the wine in his glass. “I think I might have a way to get into contact with your brother.”

“How’s that?” Though you were somewhat nervous about the idea of him contacting your brother, you were still under the naive impression that John could survive anything. You masked your nerves as you looked at him, taking a sip from your own glass.

“I found out that he has a friend, a blind man. He’s retired so he’s technically off the grid, but I can find him.”

“Are you talking about Caine?” You’d met Caine a few times, but you knew that he didn’t like being an assassin. He had a daughter around your age as well, though you never got to meet her. “I don’t know if he’s going to fight.”

“Do you know him?” He seemed even more excited at the prospect of having someone with him who actually knew the person he was looking for, so you were almost upset that you were going to need to burst his bubble. You couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish. You should be happy to ruin his excitement about something, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be happy about something like that.

“I haven’t seen him since I was a kid, I just know that he always talked about getting out.” You responded, and from what he had said, the man was retired. Though you knew that retirement was never final, you should have known that from what happened with John.

“You’re a smart girl, you know we can bring him in.” You sighed and nodded, of course you knew. As much as you wished the life you got into was something that you could just go into and get out of whenever you’re ready, that isn’t the case. Most people who do this fight until they get promoted or buried, there’s hardly ever any other option.

“So what about you? Do you retire at some point?” You asked, leaning back in your chair as you watched him. You never really knew what happened to the members of the High Table when their time was up. Were they all assassinated? Did they change their identity and go into hiding?

“Probably not.” He answered, finishing his drink and setting the glass down. He kept the stem in between his fingers, twirling the tiny drop of liquid still remaining in the bottom around as he thought about his answer. “Most of the people in my position are killed before retirement is something we consider.”

Of course, you doubted that he considered retirement at this point. You knew that he just started, that he was way too young to have that be something on his radar. But his answer was more realistic than saying that he hopes he’ll be able to, because the chances of that are slim at best. “Why did you want to do this if you knew it was going to be a death sentence?”

He stopped twirling the glass, letting you finish your own drink before he called someone in to clear the table. “Because I was unsatisfied with upper management. I wanted to take care of business myself, that’s what I’m doing.”

Whether that meant he wanted to change things to be more forward-thinking, or revert some of the changes that other leaders had put into place, you were unsure. But his reasoning was sound. “If you want it done right you have to do it yourself, I guess.”

“Absolutely correct.” He stood up once the table was cleared, folding the cloth that was on his lap onto the table as you did the same. “Are you feeling tired?”

His question was entirely rhetorical. He wanted the two of you to be running on the same schedule, if you weren’t tired you were still going to your room. Even though he had been allowing you to do whatever you wanted, the chances of you gaining his trust and running away were still possible. He wanted to keep you around, though you were starting to wonder if it had less to do with your brother than it did with something else. Something far scarier than that.

“I actually am, you didn’t tell me how tedious working at the stables was.” You accepted the arm he was holding out for you, linking your elbows together as he walked you to his room. He had never really touched you before, not since the first day you were here. Something about touching him so casually, like you were old friends, made you sick and excited at the same time. But maybe that sickness was more just butterflies hanging around in your stomach… you were going to pretend it was just sickness.

As you walked side-by-side with him neither of you spoke, you didn’t really need to. You didn’t want to be friends with each other, you didn’t want to like each other, you still wished you weren’t around each other. But here you were giving in to whatever your body wanted and standing so close to each other as he walked you to your room like he was your college boyfriend.

Once you arrived you grabbed the handle, but he hadn’t let go of your arm. You turned back to look at him but felt the aching feeling that you shouldn’t have. Those same eyes that drew you in and got you into this position were so close to you now, and they rendered you completely stuck. Any prospect of moving was completely lost as you looked at him, truly able to admire his height while he was standing so close.

“I like your suit.” Was the only thing you could get out, your breath trying to calm itself down as you realized you could quite literally feel the heat radiating from his body. That sentence snapped him out of his trance, though, as he let go of your arm and stepped back. You as much as you wished that you didn’t, you felt cold when he stepped away from you.

“Thank you, I could have one made for you, if you’d like. What you’re wearing right now isn’t necessarily appropriate for what you’re doing tomorrow.”

“What am I doing tomorrow?” You questioned, glancing down at the outfit you were wearing. It was a white button up with suit pants, you never really cared to wear the blazer that went with it when you didn’t think you were at risk of getting shot or getting cold.

“I have someone I need killed, you’ll need something bulletproof. I’ve had your suit washed, I know it isn’t.” Though the topic was serious, there was a rare smile on his lips. But that smile seemed to fade as he took in his surroundings. He wished you a goodnight rather quickly and made his way back to his door. While he did send you a glance as he stepped into his own room, you wondered what could have made him clam up so quickly as he went into his room.

True to his word you received a suit from him in the morning. It was plain and all black. The job that he sent you on was incredibly easy, but you figured that he wasn’t sending you for your skills. He sent you with no supervision, no one to make sure that you came back home. You had a car and a gun, you could’ve run away. You didn’t.

After that day he was a bit more comfortable with you than he was before. Though the truth was that leaving didn’t even cross your mind until after you got back, that fact alone should’ve proven to you that you were a little further gone than you would have liked. There was no reason why you should be willing to stay with him, no reason why the only thought on your mind shouldn’t be you plotting your escape. But there you remained, by his side despite knowing that he wasn’t someone that you should trust.

Everything seems different for the following few days. She knows that the two week anniversary of her arriving here is coming up and she can’t help but wonder if she should be fighting to go home. She wants to see her brother again, she wants to see him alive, but there’s a large part of her that feels trapped here. Not because she believes she’ll be killed, or because she’s being watched because after that job it’s like nobody watches her at all. She feels trapped because she feels like she can’t leave Vincent’s side. It has nothing to do with his violent tendencies because she has those too. It has nothing to do with her brother because he’s in danger anyway. It has everything to do with him, something about him has continued to keep her close despite knowing that everything in her brain should be telling her to run away.

Everything changes on that fateful two week mark. Not because it’s been two weeks, but because it’s been roughly a month since Vincent became the new Marquis. The other members of the High Table have decreased the security that they have around him because they feel he’s a lot safer now. He doesn’t feel much safer, but there’s not much he can do when they stop sending half of the security that’s supposed to be protecting him.

That afternoon, as you’re walking to lunch with Vincent, someone who went rogue broke into the building. A few people were killed, but Vincent wasn’t. You, however, had elected to leave your blazer in your room so you didn’t get anything on it. It wasn’t like you were anticipating being shot at, and you tended not to wear it if you didn’t have to.

A bullet had come incredibly close to his head. It should have been easy for you, you should have been able to just let him die. If some random person were to kill him it wouldn’t be on you, maybe the next leader wouldn’t be looking for you or your brother because they’re trying to figure out who had done that and what had caused it. But you didn’t allow him to get shot, you tried pushing him out of the way and wound up with a bullet in the arm.

You were the one to take the shooter out, but the blood dripping onto the pristine white floors was incredibly concerning. Though Vincent rushed you to the medical wing, you insisted that you were fine. It was far from the worst wound that you had sustained in this line of work, but he seemed disinterested in listening to that. As far as he was concerned, you were injured. Not only were you injured, but you were injured because you took a bullet so he wouldn’t die.

He stayed with you as the bullet was removed from your arm, and remained there as you were stitched up and bandaged. Despite the advice that he had no need to stay, he still did. In turn, you were both given care instructions for the wound and he refused to let you leave his side for the rest of the day.

It was strange, at first. He canceled everything that he had planned for you today and opted to bring you to the work that he was doing. You insisted that you were going to be just fine, and he believed you, but that didn’t make him want to part ways with you. You were pretty sure the only time that the two of you weren’t together was the times that you both went to the bathroom.

All of that was what led to you sitting beside him in a car on the way home from the tailor. You needed a new shirt because yours had a bullet hole in it, and he wanted to give you a reward for what you did for him so he got you a new blazer with the design and color of your choice. It felt incredibly, incredibly weird to be pampered like that by him. It almost felt like he was treating you like some kind of fine China, like if he took his eyes off of you it was going to be an instantaneous death. Even so, you wondered why he would care that much if you were to die.

Why didn’t you sit on the other side of the car? Why was his thigh pressed directly against yours? Why were you wishing that you were somehow even closer to him even though this was the closest that the two of you could possibly be sitting without you sitting on top of him?

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Was he talking to you? You didn’t expect him to be the type of person to apologize, and you weren’t speaking at the moment so you have absolutely no clue what he could be sorry for right now.

“I’m sorry I got you shot.” Oh. Well that was new. Of course, you disagreed with the notion that he got you shot, you were rather tired of people pretending like your own choices didn’t also have consequences from time to time. Having him apologize to you after bringing you to his home and telling you he wants to kill your brother is definitely incredibly jarring to you. But he was also leaving it completely in your hands. You could shut him down and say something cruel to him, or you could approve of it and be kind. He knew that he was giving you a choice, and you knew it too.

“I made that decision on my own, it wasn’t your fault.” You responded, looking over at him. His eyes were so brilliantly blue, but the way that the sunset illuminated his face made you want nothing more than to reach over and touch him. “It was that man’s fault for coming in, not yours.”

He smiled in a way that would be hard to detect if you hadn’t spent so much time with him, but you’d spent the last seven hours by his side with maybe three or four minutes apart. You knew him well enough at this point, and you’d seen him smile enough times to know exactly what it looked like. You didn’t stop him as he reached over, his fingers intertwining with his own.

Despite the fluttering in your chest and stomach being almost unbearable, and your brain trying to beat those feelings into submission, you wrapped your fingers around his hand in return. There was some small voice in your brain screaming at you, telling you that you were being a moron and that you shouldn’t try to do something like this. But you couldn’t help it, you felt absolutely unable to do anything to fight the way that you felt when you were with him, at some point you just needed to let go of your hesitations and run with what the universe was giving you.

The rest of the ride was silent, but there really was nothing for either of you to say. There was no part of your brain that didn’t know that what you were doing was foolish. Perhaps it would be for the best if you were to just leave that night, go looking for your brother when Vincent would least expect it. But the moment you felt his thumb roll over your knuckles, so gentle that it made you want to lean into him, you felt like there was no room for anything like that to ever happen.

When you arrived back you both walked to the dining hall, not bothering to break your interlocked hands or try to step away from each other. There was this feeling in the back of your head, a feeling that you wondered if he had as well, like you were both just biting the bullet and letting go of the real world. There were real world consequences that should be keeping you from doing this, things that had kept you apart for at least the last week if not the last two. But now it was like you were throwing that all to the wind and doing whatever you felt was right. Not morally, or intellectually right. But what you felt was right for your spirit.

Neither of you discussed any of it over dinner. You mainly talked about how Vincent had figured out where Caine was and he had a plan to get in contact with him. You discussed a conversation that he had with the other members of the High Table who were beginning to believe that New York was the reason why everything was the way that it was. From what you had gathered about him over the last two weeks, he believed that there should be more rules and sanctions in place in this society. Though people were killing people to make a living every day, that didn’t change the fact that they were human beings and not animals who ran around with no consequences.

It made sense to you that Winston would be someone who he’s targeting. Though Winston was the one to shoot John and push him off of a roof, it was clear to everyone that John had survived that. You doubted that he would believe that Winston was in cahoots with John, that he knew the attack wouldn’t kill him. No one could have known that, and while you would believe that John wouldn’t still interact with Winston after that, you knew him too well for that. You knew he would stay in contact with him because he never cut Winston off for very long. But Vincent didn’t know him like that, and as attached to him as you became, you weren’t going to tell him.

What did surprise you, however, was his willingness to destroy the New York Continental. He mentioned that he knew that it would be a touchy subject for you because it was somewhere that you had spent a lot of your younger life, but he also believed that having it around would displease the High Table. He’d had a few people float him the idea of deconsecrating but from the way he said it to you, you’d think that it was something that they directly asked him to do. Chances are, it was mainly his idea. You knew that he would do anything to stop John, he wanted nothing more than to make a name for himself and to make himself powerful.

But you weren’t overly offended at the idea and you told him such. Though it was something that was important to your childhood, if it was the only thing he felt he could do, who were you to stop him? You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he wasn’t asking for your permission. If he wanted the hotel to be destroyed he was going to do it whether you wanted him or not. But he was telling you in advance so there would be no bad blood between the two of you, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it was something that you were genuinely grateful for.

By the time the dinner was over it felt like you were both stalling. Leaving the room was going to change everything one way or another. If you were to leave and go to bed, pretend like nothing had happened throughout the day and go about your business tomorrow, it would make a difference. It would be a conscious effort to reject your feelings because they weren’t going to help you in any way. In essence, having feelings for each other was going to hinder you both, especially because you were initially brought there as a pawn to bring John to him.

But if something did happen, and the two of you were to do something more than hold hands, it would change things. It wouldn’t be the change of choosing to keep everything the same, it would be choosing to be with each other. Choosing that you didn’t care about the consequences in this one instance, you didn’t care if it was going to be more emotional labor than either of you were entirely capable of. You didn’t care because it wasn’t as important as being together.

Having both of these choices placed in front of you was absolutely terrifying to you both, but you had to stand up at some point.

He took your hand into his like he had before, your fingers wrapping around him as you stood a bit closer than you had the other night. He walked with you back to his room, the typical silence in the hallways suddenly deafening as you brushed against each other while you walked.

Once you got to your door he stopped again, his eyes on yours like they had been the other night. He wanted to pull back, you could see the debate in his eyes just like he could see it in yours. But it felt like you were pulled into a trance, and you could barely contain your movements as your lips pressed against his.

Vincent didn’t waste any time in dropping your hand from his, his hands placed on your cheeks as he kissed you like it was his life blood. He didn’t really consider the ramifications of his actions as he moved a hand from your cheek, his erratic movements showing you just how desperate you both were for each other as he grabbed his keycard from his pocket and unlocked your bedroom door.

You felt yourself being moved further back into the room as he shut the door behind him. He was quick to push you up against the wall, not bothering to take the time to get you onto the bed. It felt like there was a dam busting open as you kissed him, as you felt the feverish movement of his lips against yours.

The voice in your head grew smaller and quieter than it ever had before as you felt him cupping your jaw, his body pressed flush against you as he kept your knees apart with his legs. You almost wished the line of work you were in allowed you to wear a skirt, because the feeling of him pressing his knee against your core sent a chill through your spine as your chest pressed against his.

“Do you like that?” He asked, pulling back as his eyes held yours. You felt him drag his knee away from you, before repeating the same motion he had made before.

“Fuck- Yes, it feels so good. I need you so bad.” It felt comforting to have it out in the open, to be able to tell him how much you wanted to be with him. You hated that it felt comforting, but you knew that there was no fighting it.

“Fuck yourself against my leg, I want you to cum. I think you deserved it.” His lips pressed against your cheek, moving further down to your jawline where he lightly bit down.

Listening to his request, you lightly ground your hips against his leg. It was entirely experimental at first, one of your hands moving to grip onto his blazer as he bit down against you again.

“Here, let’s make it a little easier for you.” You felt his hands roaming down your body, unbuckling your belt. The moment you realized what was going on you slid your shoes off, kicking them into the corner of the room as you shuffled out of your pants. You went to lower yourself against his leg again, desperate for any type of friction you could get, but he stopped you. “Let me make you feel good, baby. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His tone was incredibly patronizing, but something about it excited you.

“Won’t I ruin your pants?” You asked, letting him slide your panties off of your hips before you moved back a bit to allow them to fall onto the floor.

“I have more.” He had a ridiculous amount of suits, but you knew how much they cost. You wanted to say something back, but the idea of staining his insanely priced suit with your cum made something bubble in your stomach and you couldn’t help yourself from grinding down against his thigh again the moment you were free to.

The feeling of the fabric grinding against your clit was slightly uncomfortable at first, but as the wetness from your core continued to spread you couldn’t contain the moans that spilled from your throat. Vincent’s bedroom was the only one directly next to yours, so you had no concern that anyone else was going to hear you.

Everything in your mind felt all-consumed by Vincent. His lips suctioned against your neck, his teeth brushing against your skin as your body was stimulated by the feeling of his thigh against your clit. As much as you wanted to feel him inside of you, your breath caught in your throat every time you moved your hips against him. You felt his hands move up to untie the tie that was around your neck, but you didn’t really comprehend it.

“Such a good fucking girl, I knew you would be. I can feel how wet you are on my leg. Do you know how good it feels? Knowing it’s all for me?” He was rambling as he unbuttoned your shirt, sliding it off of his arms. He moved his kisses down through the valley of your breasts as his fingers nimbly unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the ground.

“All for you, no-nobody else.” You couldn’t comprehend how you were all fucked out already, but you couldn’t stop your hips either. You were practically writhing against him as he wrapped his plump lips around your nipple, your cunt beginning to pulsate as your head fell back against he wall.

He moved his hands down your body, placing them on your hips to guide you through your movements as you reached your first orgasm. Your clit was throbbing against his thigh as you came down from your high, and it seemed like it made him go absolutely feral as he kicked his shoes off.

The moment you popped your eyes open you felt like you were in some sort of race against time. You unbuckled his belt as he tossed his blazer onto your bed. As you slid his pants down he took care of his tie and shirt. You were both rushing to get him undressed because, despite the small time you had known each other, you both felt like you were absolutely going to implode if he wasn’t inside of you as quickly as humanly possible.

The second you had him unclothed you gripped his cock, rubbing the pre-cum from his tip down the shaft of his cock. The sight of his mouth slightly open and the moonlight reflecting against his face was enough to make you feel like you’d fallen in love. But he quickly removed your hand from him, pulling one of your thighs up so it was pressed against his hip as he pushed inside of you.

It sounded almost angelic to hear him moan, to feel him pushing completely inside of you until he’d bottomed out in your cunt. You were practically throbbing against him, but you almost felt like begging for him.

“You feel so fucking good around my cock, like you were made for me.” The feeling of his lips against yours again consumed your mind as he continued the motions from before, your body bouncing against the wall from the impact of his thrust. His hand tightened around your hip, tight enough for you to worry that it would leave a bruise. But it made you want to grind against him, it made you want to be with him more than you already did. You wanted to remember that the two of you were together, you wanted it to happen again more than anything.

His teeth sunk down on your bottom lip, your mouth falling open as his tongue slotted against yours. The kiss was messy and wet, but neither of you could be bothered to care. For someone so perfectly groomed and pristine, the sloppiness of his kiss was jarring. But it was enticing nevertheless, you wanted to see how much looser he could get the more the two of you got into things.

You were both too far gone to really consider anything other than that it felt like to be with each other at that moment. You wanted to worry about the things that mattered outside of here, about your brother and everything that was going on with him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to be concerned with anything other than how it felt like to feel Vincent ramming his cock into you like he would never get the chance so do it again while his name spilled from your lips into his mouth. You could only seem to focus on how it felt like the rest of the world faded away when his middle finger began pressing circles around your already overstimulated clit.

“You’re my good girl, do you understand that?” His lips pulled back from yours as he looked at you, his free hand cradling your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

“All yours, I promise.” Your mind was completely fucked out of wack. You couldn’t consider the fact that being all his meant being with someone who you shouldn’t be. Though you weren’t sure how serious a commitment during sex could possibly be, making a promise to Vincent was like signing it in blood. You agreed to be with him, and you wanted to be with him as much as you wished that you didn’t.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes snapping shut as he increased the veracity of his fingers against your clit. You felt yourself cumming around him incredibly quickly after, his name being the only thing filling the room as you felt your body shaking from your second orgasm.

As you finally opened your eyes you got onto your knees, his hands gripping your hair as you took him into your mouth. You didn’t stop him as he fucked your throat, his eyes rolled back as he tugged on your hair.

“Such a fucking good little slut. Taking my cum so well.” You felt a warm liquid covering your throat, swallowing as though on instinct before he helped you stand up. You felt his thumb pressed against your tongue, his eyes searching your mouth before a smile covered your lips.

That night the two of you would share a bed, neither of you really getting much sleep because you just couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. But that commitment that you made was incredibly serious, though neither of you really knew just how serious it would be until you remembered everything that you did in the morning.

The next week was a learning process for both of you. It felt strange to be with him like this, to know that he was plotting to kill your brother. It didn’t feel like you were being completely sincere with anyone, but at the end of the day, you knew that you were. You knew that you didn’t want him to kill John, but you also didn’t feel like he was going to be able to. There was a large part of you that believed that everyone was going to make it out alive, but that large part of you was just being foolish because you had become a lovestruck fool from the moment you met Vincent.

But it wasn’t like he was faring any better. He was all over you. Not just in the sense that he was constantly trying to sleep with you, but in the sense that he loved being around you. He liked talking to you, he liked learning more about your past now that you had opened up to him more.

It was the first night after the two of you slept together for the first time. He let you sleep in his room that night, but the two of you decided that you should talk about things. He knew what he had read on paper about your past, he knew that you moved around a lot and never really had a home. But he didn’t know where you moved to, he didn’t know what places other than New York you had ever really been in. You opened up to him about a lot of your past, making sure to keep specific names out of it so they weren’t in more danger than they were already in.

He wanted to know more about you because things could never just be casual between you both. You’d realized that the morning you woke up together, when you realized that neither of you woke up at dawn because you’d been so distracted by each other. When he missed one of his morning duties and felt himself not really freaking out about it because it was being with someone who seemed to matter to him that made him miss it.

The next night in the week he opened up to you about his own past. You never really figured that you were going to learn how he ended up where he was, what made him decide that he wanted to be in the position that he was in. You knew the bare minimum of it, but that night it felt like you were learning everything about him that he could possibly tell you. It felt good for him to have someone know everything, to be able to talk about everything he had gone to with someone who he didn’t fear was going to judge him for any of it.

Despite the openness, both of you were incredibly afraid. You knew that getting into something like this was dangerous for any normal person, let alone that you were both supposed to be completely opposed to each other, and that being an assassin in a relationship was already incredibly dangerous. You had seen what happened when John fell in love, how he ended up losing her. You never wanted to have feelings for anyone because you knew that the chances it would end terribly were high.

For the first time in your life, you wished that you had taken John’s advice and never become an assassin. Maybe you wouldn’t have to be so paranoid about having feelings and relationships. Maybe, if you were assured that nothing was going to go wrong, it wouldn’t be such a big thing for you that you were pursuing someone at all. But if you had done that, and you’d never gotten involved, you never would have ended up laying beside Vincent every night. And regardless of whatever forces above that warned you before that being with him was a terrible idea, you wouldn’t trade your relationship with him, despite its flaws and dangers, for anything safer.

It was on the fourth night that the two of you went back to being incapable of keeping your hands off of each other. That man canceled an entire meeting just because he wanted to get you back to his room. It wasn’t even like you were both being incredibly decent about it either. It was anytime, any place. A janitor’s closet, a bathroom, the shower when you both had places to be. It was just about any time you could be together, you were, but things changed on the sixth day.

The next day you were going to be flying to New York. The hotel was going to be destroyed regardless of what case Winston wanted to plead, Vincent had finally gotten the approval he needed from the rest of the High Table to be the one to deliver the news. He wanted to bring you along because he knew that it was the best way for John to figure out the truth. That you were with him, and that you were an assassin. Two things that you had yet for him to know about, and two things that were going to make him absolutely livid.

Every bit of that night before you both flew out was incredibly tense. You held onto each other because you knew that this was the last moment that you could live in your little fantasy land. The bubble around you was going to pop, and Vincent might not make it out of John’s warpath alive. This could be the beginning of the end of the relationship that you had only just started, and the two of you weren’t quite ready to let go of that.

But time is funny like that, because no matter how much everyone wishes it could be controlled, there’s no stopping it. The next morning you flew out, both of you seated in a room while you waited for Winston to come to the meeting spot. The current angle you were going for was that you were being kept by Vincent, not that you were staying willingly. As much as he liked that you chose to stay with him, Vincent wasn’t going to throw you under the bus.

The truth was, both you and Vincent knew you were no longer needed for him to get John to come. He had Winston, he had a meeting the next day with Caine. He had everything he needed to get John into his grasp, and he really didn’t need you for that. But he wanted you around, he liked having you around. As much as he pretended like he was only keeping you with him because he needed you, the both of you knew it wasn’t the truth.

Vincent kept you close to him throughout the meeting and stayed true to his word that he wasn’t making it look like you were willingly staying with him. You had seen him so affectionately over the last week that you’d forgotten how cold the man could be, but the meeting with Winston served as a reminder.

Though you weren’t as close to him as you were with Winston, you had been friends with Charon. Both him and Winston had tried to get you to go home with them, but the attempt was fruitless. You and Vincent played into the idea that you were being forced to stay there, that he was going to do something drastic if you were to go back with John. He made it seem like you were being ransomed. It was interesting to you, because in the beginning that would have been the truth. He was keeping you there against your will, he brought you there as bait for John. But now? That wasn’t the case. He acted too quickly and too impulsively when he brought you in, and that impulse decision was what had gotten you both to where you were with each other now.

Seeing Vincent kill Charon made your blood run cold, but he brought you outside anyway. He didn’t speak much on the ride back to France, you didn’t either. You had very little to say. Well. You had a lot of things that you wanted to say, a lot of things that were plaguing your mind. Seeing someone you considered a friend murdered by someone who you would call your lover wasn’t something you ever wanted to see. But it happened.

It was for the best that you didn’t speak until you got back for dinner, because it took you around that amount of time to decide that you were going to stay with him anyway. As much as you could feel it becoming more and more dangerous to be there, as much as you knew that staying with him was morally reprehensible and made you feel like you were becoming a bad person, you couldn’t help your feelings.

Vincent chose to sit beside you instead of at the head of the table, his eyes watching you as you barely picked at your food.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand resting on yours as you set your fork down. His eyes were concerned, and it only made you feel worse.

“Am I a bad person?”

“I think I’m the wrong person to ask.” Though his words may sound insincere, his response wasn’t. Vincent may have done terrible things, but he was self-aware about it. He never claimed to be a good person, he merely claimed to be doing a job. “But I don’t care if you are or not.”

He had you dress up for this dinner, both of you knowing that it could have been your last. You could feel his hand sliding up your thigh. Normally, you may have shooed him away for trying to touch you during such a serious situation. But you wanted the distraction, you wanted him to make you feel good because right now it felt like there was nothing more than a dark, gray cloud swirling around in your head.

He held your eyes as his fingers pushed under your panties, running over your clit as your hips ground against him. This was by far the riskiest place either of you had ever done anything, at some point someone was going to come in. You just had to make it quick.

Vincent seemed to have every intention of making it quick as he pushed two fingers into you, the heel of his hand brushing against your clit as you did your best to bite back your moans. He seemed like he was on a mission to make you feel good, his fingers curling inside of you in the place that he had learned drove you wild.

It didn’t take long for the wetness to begin pooling around his fingers, the squelching sound between your thighs would have embarrassed you had your mind not been so preoccupied with how good he was making you feel. He looked so focused, so intense. You quickly leaned forward to capture his lips, his free hand cradling your cheek as he kissed you. You both needed this distraction, because you both were incredibly stressed about what was going to happen when he brought Caine in the next day.

As he sped up the thrusts of his fingers he broke your lips apart, a whine leaving your mouth as his forehead was pressed against yours. It took you a moment to process what was happening until you realized that he was speaking to you. A mumbled, “I love you,” was all it took to send you over the edge.

You couldn’t stop it from spilling out of your mouth. The moans, the whines, the “I love you so fucking much.” He took it all in, kissing you again as you rode the wave of your high, your hips spasming against his hand before eventually stilling.

Vincent took his fingers from you, pushing them into his mouth as he sucked them clean. You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

The dinner was finished in a peaceful kind of silence. Despite the war that was going to be raging on tomorrow, for just one moment the two of you were in a reprieve. You were helpless from the moment that you met him, the moment that your eyes locked onto his. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever met when you first saw him, and he’s still just as beautiful now. You knew you couldn’t fight the feelings inside of you from the beginning no matter how badly you tried. Though you may have been sitting in the middle of the eye of the hurricane, waiting for the other shoe to drop when John arrives in France, for the time being you were both at peace knowing that the unfortunately strange circumstances of our meeting couldn’t have stopped the fate that brought the two of you together.

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