Cruella De Vil au.
N.Jeff Vanderbilt, or you may know more, Cruella De Vil Oneshot.
Extravagant parties were your worst enemies, you knew that much. There was nothing you hated more than having to stand around a bunch of posh people that treated you as nothing more than a servant. Just because you worked for the Jeff did not mean that anyone could boss you around, well, except him.
You frowned as you thought of the man who you had not seen for the most part that very day. The two of you were lucky enough if you got a few minutes alone per day at work, but even then, you had only seen him that morning in bed. After that, he had seemingly gone missing.
As strange as it was, you had learned not to question his motives. He was still a very private man. It had taken months for him to even open up about the most miniscule of things, but even then you commended him on such efforts. You knew how hard it was for him to express any emotions other than anger and annoyance. Any progress was good progress.
You walked through the multitudes of people in search of the mini bar. If you could not see your lover then at least you could drink. One out of two wasn’t that bad.
Not even a second after you had sat down, someone, who appeared to have been sitting at your side, cleared their throat. You rolled your eyes because the chances of having another snob order you to fetch them something they did not need at a damn were very high.
“You’re quite the sight.”
To your surprise, the man did not immediately treat you as a servant. Although he had only said a handful of words, you already knew where the conversation was being taken. You told yourself that if you had the temperament that Jeff had, said man would already have dropped dead.
“Thank you,” Came your response. It was short and simple. You hoped that it would be enough for him to get the hint and stop trying to make conversation.
When the bartender appeared before you, you couldn’t help but smile. The only three things that you loved on this planet was Jeff, sleep, and alcohol. Even if you always drank in moderation it was something you could not live without. After all, how else would you have gathered the courage to disclose your feelings towards Jeff.
After giving the bartender your order, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Instinctively, you turned around to face the man who seemed desperate to converse. You immediately recognized him as one of the Jeff’s top competitors: La Grenouille.
You felt a knot in your stomach as you realized that maybe you would not be able to sweet talk your way out of a conversation with him. He was notorious for, similarly to the Baroness, taking whatever he wanted without asking for permission. Rumor has it that he even attempted to steal ideas from the fashion titan herself before he got caught. The whole ordeal did not leave you with a great feeling.
“What’s your name, darling?”
You almost threw up internally at the way the pet name rolled from this tongue. Nobody could do it like your De vil.
“I would rather just drink in silence, thank you very much.”
You hoped that he finally got the hint and left you alone. Jeff would frown upon you hitting another fashion icon at one of her parties. Plus, a warrant for your arrest would not look good in your squeaky-clean record.
“Lighten up, sweetheart. I’m just trying to talk,” The man said before placing a hand upon your left thigh. You swore you would chop it right off if you could.
As much as you wished to get out of that situation, you did not want to escalate things any further. With a sigh, you gave in.
“I'm XXXXX-+. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” You said with the fakest smile you could muster as you raised your hand for only him to shake it with the one previously touching you. It was a relief that it was not there anymore. If only he would not make any more advances that were uncalled for.
“I assume I don’t need to make an introduction.”
N.Jeff Vanderbilt, or you may know more, Cruella De Vil Oneshot.
Extravagant parties were your worst enemies, you knew that much. There was nothing you hated more than having to stand around a bunch of posh people that treated you as nothing more than a servant. Just because you worked for the Jeff did not mean that anyone could boss you around, well, except him.
You frowned as you thought of the man who you had not seen for the most part that very day. The two of you were lucky enough if you got a few minutes alone per day at work, but even then, you had only seen him that morning in bed. After that, he had seemingly gone missing.
As strange as it was, you had learned not to question his motives. He was still a very private man. It had taken months for him to even open up about the most miniscule of things, but even then you commended him on such efforts. You knew how hard it was for him to express any emotions other than anger and annoyance. Any progress was good progress.
You walked through the multitudes of people in search of the mini bar. If you could not see your lover then at least you could drink. One out of two wasn’t that bad.
Not even a second after you had sat down, someone, who appeared to have been sitting at your side, cleared their throat. You rolled your eyes because the chances of having another snob order you to fetch them something they did not need at a damn were very high.
“You’re quite the sight.”
To your surprise, the man did not immediately treat you as a servant. Although he had only said a handful of words, you already knew where the conversation was being taken. You told yourself that if you had the temperament that Jeff had, said man would already have dropped dead.
“Thank you,” Came your response. It was short and simple. You hoped that it would be enough for him to get the hint and stop trying to make conversation.
When the bartender appeared before you, you couldn’t help but smile. The only three things that you loved on this planet was Jeff, sleep, and alcohol. Even if you always drank in moderation it was something you could not live without. After all, how else would you have gathered the courage to disclose your feelings towards Jeff.
After giving the bartender your order, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Instinctively, you turned around to face the man who seemed desperate to converse. You immediately recognized him as one of the Jeff’s top competitors: La Grenouille.
You felt a knot in your stomach as you realized that maybe you would not be able to sweet talk your way out of a conversation with him. He was notorious for, similarly to the Baroness, taking whatever he wanted without asking for permission. Rumor has it that he even attempted to steal ideas from the fashion titan herself before he got caught. The whole ordeal did not leave you with a great feeling.
“What’s your name, darling?”
You almost threw up internally at the way the pet name rolled from this tongue. Nobody could do it like your De vil.
“I would rather just drink in silence, thank you very much.”
You hoped that he finally got the hint and left you alone. Jeff would frown upon you hitting another fashion icon at one of her parties. Plus, a warrant for your arrest would not look good in your squeaky-clean record.
“Lighten up, sweetheart. I’m just trying to talk,” The man said before placing a hand upon your left thigh. You swore you would chop it right off if you could.
As much as you wished to get out of that situation, you did not want to escalate things any further. With a sigh, you gave in.
“I'm XXXXX-+. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” You said with the fakest smile you could muster as you raised your hand for only him to shake it with the one previously touching you. It was a relief that it was not there anymore. If only he would not make any more advances that were uncalled for.
“I assume I don’t need to make an introduction.”