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I have started a redemption arc longfic for a fandom with a bad reputation for toxicity and puritanical flame/ship wars, based around possibly the most controversial character in the canon game.
So in other words, I'm doing great! 👍
Also dug up and polished a scene from the start of a girl genius fic that I don't think you'll have seen before.
Gil was having a Bad Day. Even aside from the fact that someone was stealing bio-stasis fluid (not his responsibility), his reanimations professor's (really stupid) opinions on constructs, or DuPree's murderous tendencies, that was small potatoes. No, what was making Gil’s day so miserable was the wonderful combination of no letters from his “friends”, and the freshly acquired knowledge that they were all perfectly fine with no kind of mail blockage at all.
Which stung, you know? (So did the probably sharper than intended majority of the letter from his father explaining all the reasons he shouldn’t be spending time on it, but for different reasons.)
Aetheric channelling, at least, was a simple class with a perfectly pleasant instructor. Usually a respite from long fridays, as long as Gil ignored the other people in the class.
Such as Sturmvoraus, who usually got in early, but fortunately kept to himself, focussing on the subject.
Of course, sometimes he decided to get some quick Scheming in before the lecture started.
Gil was too tired to worry about that right now. Whatever Sturmvoraus was up to could be someone else's problem today.
Or- wait. No. He was coming over to Gil. Lovely. Wonderful. Great.
He quickly fixed his slouch from “tired” to “careless”, beating Sturmvoraus to be the first to open his mouth as he came close enough to reasonably talk.
“What do you want, Sturmvoraus?” Well that wasn’t what he was planning to go with, but sure.“I was under the impression ignoring each other was what we both wanted.”
“Unfortunately I owe one of the people whose letters you’ve been too… busy,” Tarvek visibly euphemised, apparently too royal to even say it to Gil's face. Gil quietly celebrated that The Plan was working. “to reply to a favour. And so here we are.”
“Wait, who?” Someone was sending Gil letters? And talking to Sturmvoraus about it? Sturmvoraus???
“Zulenna. Now, I think she’d be better off without you, but she didn’t ask my opinion.” Zulenna was sending him letters? Then why wasn’t he getting them? Why did Sturmvoraus- (“-You should be focussing on your studies, and observing serious politics-”). Oh. Oh. So that was how Father was playing it.
Sturmvoraus was still talking, something about all the reasons Zulenna deserved better friends than Gil.
An idea popped into Gil’s head.
“-Tarvek?” A bad idea.
“What?” A terrible, awful idea.
“Do you want to get coffee and catch up after class?” If Gil was meant to be talking to important players in Paris, well surely one of the Valois heirs counted? “It's been a while, after all.”
Tarvek stared at him as though he'd grown an extra head and started singing opera.
Gil stared back, the picture of hopeful innocence.
“I have plans. Tomorrow, five pm, The Singing Roast?”
Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez are undercover as newlyweds to draw out the unsub who's mo is killing married couples visiting Paris. As the days goes on and inbetween kisses, hugs and dinners the lines start to blur.
So... I got this DIY miniature set and once I realized that it's supposed to be a music room in Paris my brain just immediately went "I need to make this into John and Paul's secret getaway, where they'll be safe and happy forever (on my bookshelf)."
Bet: Loumand would've been so much healthier if Louis, seeing the plays at the Theatre, said "nah, I think I can do better. You want to write about death, let me introduce you to American Gothic."
So he opens up a rival theatre, start writing plays, or even makes friends with a playwright. Makes a business out of it, he's good at that. Hires Madeline for costume design, so Claudia starts visiting more to hang out with her, even though she's still exploring the limits of the coven.
Suddenly Armand has some challenge in his life. He's flabbergasted at the idea of a competing THEATRE but not a competing coven. He doesn't even really care about the plays, but he has to respond for the coven. And the coven? As theatre kids they're LIVING for this drama. Santiago is still pissed that Louis is hot and doesn't want to join, but competing against another leading man? It makes his blood sing in a different way. This is exciting and new, and as long as Louis isn't introducing more vampires for competition it's fine.
Of course once Madeline is turned things start going from dicey to minced.
synopsis; where taehyung is no stranger to seducing tourists and reader is a stranger to flirty photographers – but not one night stands. when in France, do as the French do, no?
pairing; photographer!taehyung x tourist!female!reader
genre; angst, fluff, humor, smut, Paris au, photographer au, tourist au
warnings; some minor manipulation in the form of jealousy, cursing, dancing with two left feet, ice cream dates and indirect kisses, museum dates and art appreciation, the realization that moments are fleeting and so are feelings, explicit sexual content, dirty talk in French, soft and dominant taehyung, equally as soft and dominant reader, overstimulation, determination, bliss, cold sheets, warm hearts and lingering memories
rating; 21+ MINORS DNI
w/c; 5,507
a/n; taehyung just looks so pretty in Paris that I had to write something about it. this is loooong overdue and I’m so sorry but writer’s block is real y’all. be sure to give your fav authors some love cause it can be hard. don’t be a silent reader! <3 feedback is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.
To you, it was a time well needed to get away from the stress of reality. The dead-end job, the shitty ex-boyfriend, the dull daily routine of life that was in desperate need of change.
To him, you were just another carefree, albeit gorgeous, tourist who saw things through rose-colored glasses.
And he couldn’t wait to crack them.
The air felt crisp, cold, and clear.
The skies were a effervescent shade of blue, with pillowy clouds scattered about. The hustle and bustle of tourists and residents around you served as a raucous kind of lullaby as you closed your eyes and savored all that this city had to offer - not noticing the photographer who saw you through his lens at a short distance away.
He pretended to be taking photos of the flowers that bloomed behind you, the various colors only enhancing the beauty that was naturally you. He inched ever so closer, just enough to angle his body in a way to capture the peaceful expression on your face within his lens crosshairs.
It was one lone click, followed by the sound of a shutter closing and opening on a camera that had your eyes blinking themselves open. For a second, you saw nothing as your eyesight once again needed time to focus on the light surrounding you instead of the dim darkness that was your eyelids.
When the blurry settled, and the saturation and vibrancy of the scenery around you sharpened, did you fixate your wondering gaze to the male who looked at you, peaking his head slightly above the frame of his camera. A hint of a dimple could be seen, as well as his boxy, closed mouth smile.
“J’adore ton sourire.”
{“I love your smile.”}
The once serene look on your face turned to one of shyness, your smile still present - bigger, but demeanor shrinking in on itself. You had no clue what he spoke, but the gentle way his eyes shined at you had your body yearning for more from the mystery male. He adored the way your cheeks let off a cherry hue, and could only daydream how they would look along with your skin as your body writhed with pleasure underneath him. Or, if he had a choice, above him.
Only one way to find out.
“Je peux vous offrir un verre?”
{“Can I buy you a drink?”}
You said the one word you knew in French, having memorized quite a few social phrases before coming, so you knew what he asked. Though forward, you welcomed the thrill — the adventure — as a foreigner.
“Oui.”
{“Yes.”}
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Monday
You threw your head back in laughter as he dipped your now bent over figure gracefully, your arm secured around his neck and his at the curve of your back. When he pulled you back in, your chest was flush against his. In your liquor induced haze, you missed the way his eyes flashed with a hidden glint to them, the seemingly permanent smile on his face never faltering.
“I thought you said you were a bad dancer?” He eyed you dubiously, and you let out a snort of laughter, hand raising to cover your nostrils and mouth with wide eyes.
He let out a boisterous laugh and gently tugged your hand away from your face, the glint gone, but replaced with a now playful and mischievous air. You opted to fan your face instead, the humidity of the small pub and humility of your rather unladylike action taking a toll on your emotions and body respectively.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
His deep, baritone, voice filled your mind as he encompassed you into a tight hug, his mouth outlining the shell of your ear. This dude loved touching in any way, shape, or form. You chalked it up to his lineage, his facial features resembled that of Asian descent and yet his personality and mannerisms screamed French. To you, it was a dangerous duo, but you couldn’t get enough.
When he told you that he spoke three different languages, including yours, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how one could know so many, but the prospect of him teaching you a different language filled you with excitement, a promise he said he would own up to when you agreed to see each other again after today.
“We should call it a night, yeah?”
Your legs felt like noodles, your head was fuzzy, and images were slightly blurred. It wasn’t until you leaned your full body weight against him, did you come to the realization that you were beyond tired and still jet lagged. His hands stabilized your wobbly figure with a firm grip on your waist.
Blowing out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you replied.
“Yeah–I should head back to my hotel.”
“Would you like me to get you a cab?”
“Please.”
His hand hovered on the small of your back as you slowly made your way to the front of the club. The immediate relief you felt as you stepped onto the sidewalk had you tilting your head up to the now night sky, a multitude of stars twinkling alongside the crescent moon.
A drunken night goer collided into you, sending your already unstable self backwards into the awaiting arms of your savior. His arms encased your torso with a vice grip, his own heels digging into the cracked concrete in order to be sure that he didn’t go falling himself. He threw a curse word that went unheard at the inebriated back of the mystery person – and even though you knew it was a bad word, the way it sounded in French as he shouted it over your head had your body warming with a mix of emotions.
Majority of you was entirely grateful for his presence, a good chunk of you was beyond happy with the generous amount of time you were able to spend with him where he showed you both popular and hole in the wall attractions. He essentially played the part of your personal tour guide with how rich with knowledge he was of the history of Paris.
You really lucked out.
“Thank you.”
He was still mumbling curse words under his breath, staring daggers into the direction he watched the night stroller head in until he was gone. It was your own barely audible mumble of gratitude that had him awkwardly maneuvering his face at a weird angle to see the front of yours. His brows pulled together in confusion.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“For–,” you struggled to come up with words, the list of many things you were thankful for being long in itself that you opted for the shorter and simpler route. “–everything?”
It ended up coming out as more of a question at the end than a confident declaration, and it had you inwardly cringing with just how out of touch you were with flirting since your ex walked out of your life.
“You’re wel–,” his head perked up as he fixated at something over your shoulder. Before you could utter another syllable, he put two fingers in his mouth and blew a sharp whistle followed by waving the same hand animatedly back and forth.
The squealing of tires is all you heard before a yellow taxi cab slowed to a stop in front of you two. Keeping an arm around your waistline, he stepped one foot off the sidewalk to open the car door for you. With a gentle smile and push at your lower back, you stepped off the sidewalk yourself. His hand then grabbed yours to stabilize your movements so you could swiftly, and ungracefully, plop your butt onto the clothed back seat.
Making sure you were fully inside, he then carefully shut the door for you. You clumsily went to roll down the window and he chuckled in amusement at your hasty movement. Once it was halfway down, did you poke your head out of the window to ask him a question.
“Kim Taehyung.”
Your brows rose and your mouth was left open in an ‘o’ shape as you watched his mouth form the words as if in slow motion. How did he know?
“Y—,” again, you were cut off by his psychic abilities.
“My number is on the napkin I slipped inside your coat pocket. Call me when you wake up and I can give you a more in depth tour of the sights.”
His boxy smile, accompanied by the confident yet suave wink he sent your way as the driver pulled away from the curb had your heart racing in anticipation of the day to come. A smile of your own lit up your face, making his own become broader. The same smile turning into one of confusion as a slender, manicured hand slid its way around his shoulders and a mystery woman kissed his cheek.
He missed the way your face dropped into one of morose when he pivoted on his heel to greet the woman with a kiss on each of her cheeks. You pulled your head back into the cab, his attention on you long gone as you sulked in that taxi cab the rest of the way to the hotel. The only comfort you had was the lightweight napkin that you fished out of your coat pocket, and – true to his words – had his number written down on it with a ‘call me’ elegantly written in red ink.
It was the French thing to do, you rationalized. They could just be friends. He seemed surprised to see her, therefore he had no idea she would be there. Yeah, you thought with a sullen nod, it was a spontaneous meeting. That must be it.
Another lingering thought crossed your mind as you reread the scrawl.
He didn’t even know your name.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Tuesday
“Y/N Y/L/N”.
The flat of his tongue was licking the side of the waffle cone that housed his now dripping ice cream as he hummed in acknowledgement. You could feel a drip of your own strawberry ice cream land on your thumb and you made quick work in licking it away as well.
“Beau prénom comme toi.”
“Something–,” you wracked your brain over the common words he’s already taught you. “Beautiful?”
He nodded, smiling at you encouragingly, and gestured at you with his ice cream to continue. Nibbling on the waffle cone, you tested the thoughts in your head out loud.
“Beautiful name?”
His body rose in front of your seated position on the large fountain you were both resting at as he began clapping for you loudly and exuberantly. In the process he ended up with his remaining ice cream on the floor. You grinned at him shyly, mockingly bowing in turn. A few giggles escaped your lips at the fallen frozen treat.
“Like you.”
He sat back down next to you as he said this. It was with such confidence that you wondered if he uses the same tactics with other foreign girls only in town for a week – or, and you highly doubted this – if you were considered special. You’d like to think the latter, but your gut told you it wasn’t true.
A finger poked the crease lines that began forming on your forehead in between your eyes. Attempting to look at the invading digit, had your eyes crossing comically in a way that had Taehyung leaning into your face with a coy smile.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Swatting the finger away, you rolled your eyes at him. His mouth began to open, and you had no doubt that he was about to spew some other flirtatious comment your way. Deciding your poor, little, hopeless romantic heart couldn’t take anymore feigned interest, you shove the remainder of your own ice cream into his mouth. His eyes grew wide, as he opened his mouth more to accommodate the sugary, strawberry goodness with a surprised grunt.
He brought up a hand to clamp around the waffle cone, eating half of it in one bite that would’ve taken you a good minute to finish yourself. Swallowing, he gave you a smirk with narrowed eyes.
“Do you know that we just indirectly kissed?”
“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”
All he did was laugh in glee at your flustered face.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Wednesday
You both began sprinting for the nearest awning cover you two could find, the cold and relentless rain having no qualms with drenching your shivering forms otherwise. The rain caused several curls to appear that plastered to Taehyung’s forehead and it made him look even more irresistible than he already was. But you? You probably looked more like a drowned raccoon, positive that your eyeliner and mascara were smeared when you made the mistake of wiping water from your eyes.
“Who was that woman?”
You hoped you came off as more nonchalant and curious, rather than accusatory. Though, now, you figured – was as good a time as any to ask the loaded question that will either quench your doubts or fuel them. It didn’t look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon, and conversation was the perfect distraction.
His eyes looked at you, but his body stayed forward. You mimicked his pose, doing your best not be stiff as you waited for his response. His lip quirked up, but he repressed the smirk that wanted to show. He was selfishly wondering when you would bring it up or if you even witnessed the planned exhange. Not that you needed to know that part.
“A friend that’s also in town for the week.”
You resisted the urge to eye roll. Friend could’ve meant anything and gave you nothing in terms of feeling assured you had no current competition of your male companion’s company for the remainder of the week.
He looked down at his watch with pinched brows, and what seemed to be actual concern on his face. He sucked his lip between his teeth and made a sound of disappointment. This made you turn towards him with your own worry lines adorning your face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was actually supposed to meet her not too long after our stroll ended, but this weather is going to make me have to postpone our date.”
It’s a good thing his attention was still focused heavily on his watch, the resound sigh escaping his lips shortly after his wounding ending statement – so he was able to miss the hurt that crossed your features at his words, it having been hidden by once again returning to your fixed position, your hair securely shielding your face from him.
“I’m sorry our stroll ended up causing you to miss your date.”
A loud crack of perfectly timed thunder was able to conceal the forceful tone you used in reiterating the dreaded ‘date’ word, leaving him none the wiser to your inner turmoil. Or, so you believed.
He coughed into his hand to cover up the smile that wanted to form. It was always the same with Americans, they get jealous so easily. If only you knew that the date wasn’t really a date and it was with his guy friend and not the woman you saw previously — but, again — you didn’t need to know that. This was far more amusing to him, though it only confirmed his suspicions more on you taking a liking to him.
Good. Very good. The week was halfway done already and you two have yet to share a kiss, let alone get anywhere close to his end goal with you, but it was all apart of his plan.
And his plans never fail.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Thursday
You could not believe what your eyes were seeing.
Taehyung stood off to the side, not too far from you, but enough room to give you your own space as your eyes took in the sight of what was in front of you. Him having seen it countless times, he just tilts his head in order to get a better view of the awestruck expression on your face rather than the infamous painting.
The Mona Lisa.
Unbeknownst to him, a small smile erupts on his face while watching you, a common occurrence he’s been catching himself doing lately. Along with it, always came the damning butterflies that he didn’t know what to do with. Normally, he would only have a one track mind that hindered such thoughts, but alas – not when it came to you.
With you, he’s actually rejected other female’s company. Not an ounce of regret could be felt when doing so and he wondered when your supposed friendship might’ve crossed the line to something more. Something deeper. If he didn’t live in this city for so long he would’ve hashed it up to the romantic aura that seemed to come with it as the perpetrator of his sudden affections for you.
What kind of black magic have you cast on him?
“–ello?”
He blinked out of his stupor to come face to face with your amused one. Your head was tilted, but the smirk on your face let him know that you had an inkling on what he was thinking of, if not for the way he was zoning out on you specifically held any hints.
You weren’t used to it. All the attention, all the touches, all the minuscule glances he would send your way thinking you had no clue – but you did.
And you had no clue what to do about it.
Or, rather, you did know what you wanted to do.
It was just a matter of how you could accomplish it.
You cautiously touched your fingers with his as you two walked to the next framed piece of artwork, and not too long after did you feel his own slide between yours and encase your small hand in his.
This was a start. But you only had one more night left in this city and it was time to make the most of it.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Friday
Much like your first day here in Paris, you had the warmth of sun above the sky to caress your face, eyes squinting as you tried to zero in on the tip of the Eiffel Tower that stood tall in front of your minuscule, ant like body to those who looked down on you from the structure. Though, you know it wouldn’t last for long, the orange and purple hues were just on the horizon to signal the start of the evening.
His arm brushes up against yours as he stands next to you, mimicking your current position.
“Beautiful, is it not?”
“It truly is a sight to see. I can’t believe I’m looking at it in person.”
“Would you like to go to the top?”
You switch your focus to his, eyes widening in disbelief.
“Could we?”
His signature boxy smile appears.
“Let’s go.”
Due to modern technology of an elevator, it doesn’t take long for you both to make it to your destination in minutes. You step out and are instantly in awe at the dazzling sight before you that is Paris at night. The lights flicker sporadically, shadows in the form of cars and shapes of people filter through them continuously. It’s hard to believe you’re here right now. So much so, in fact, you need to ground yourself somehow.
Your hand flails at your side, looking for some sort of proof that you’re not dreaming and this is just an insanely vivid fever dream. A hand secures your wandering one in a firm, yet gentle grip. Slender fingers interlocking with yours has your heart in a frenzy. It just works to make the moment all the more surreal.
You can hear Taehyung let out a low chuckle.
“All you American’s seem to share the same reaction, you know? It’s cute.”
He might as well have been talking to a wall, that’s how much you were still enamored with the man made beauty around you. It’s true, if you were to take a gander at all the tourists around you, you would find the same wide eyed, dazed look.
The only difference between them and you was, well, him. Finally breaking yourself out of your stupor, your eyes shift to his that are already staring at you. You can feel the tension that’s slowly starting to build the longer you two stare. It’s exciting, it’s thrilling, it’s everything you were hoping for on this whirlwind of a trip.
Taehyung noticed the way your eyes seemed to somehow become even more dazed as you gazed at him, which is how he knew the moment had arrived.
It was time.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Teeth clashed against teeth, tongues battled for dominance, clothes were strewn randomly on the floor as soon as you stepped foot into your hotel room. The curtains were only half drawn, letting the dark room be naturally illuminated by the moon’s beams that cast an almost magical glow onto the white bedding of your bed.
Said bedding just gets kicked off in the lust fueled dance of bodies, knowing the material would only hinder certain movements and cause more sweat to transpire as the night goes on.
Before you know it, he’s hovering over you, hair dangling in front of your face that semi shields his blown pupils as he locks eyes with yours, a question lingering in them. Your bare foot slides down his toned butt cheeks before your heel digs into the supple flesh of one cheek to bring his lower body closer to yours.
The one push alone causes the head of his bulbous, condom wrapped, throbbing member to bump into the hood of your clit as it slides up and down your wet folds with ease. The sensation causes a sharp inhale from you, that only gets let out when he pulls a throaty moan from your lips, inserting only the tip into your core. His forehead drops into the naval of your breasts as he watches his cock slip further into you, your own legs spreading to accommodate him more. If it wasn’t for the shaggy hair that blocked your view, you know you would be doing the same.
“Dieu, tu es si mouillé.”
{God, you’re so wet.}
“I have no idea what you just said, but fuck–,” he pulls out all the way, only to snap his hips against yours to sheath himself again. “–keep talking.”
There’s a mixture of what sounds like a grunt and laughter as he kisses the valley between your breasts. He complies, both the accent and the words you presume to be dirty, only spurs on the tight coil in your stomach that’s begging for release.
You let out a broken whimper, your back arching off the bed that Taehyung uses to his own advantage, securing one toned arm around your back to hold you up and switch positions. His back is now against the headboard as you straddle his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders and nails digging into the flesh as your body wracks with your first orgasm of the night.
His heels dig into the mattress to get a better angle as he pistons in and out of your dripping hole, his hot tongue latching onto one of your nipples that he accidentally bites when his own orgasm takes hold. Your immediate reaction is to grip his hair and yank his head back and off your nipple, but what you come to find has you parting your lips in a silent ‘o’.
Taehyung’s eyes are closed, face scrunched with both pain and pleasure, the action making him let out a gutteral, near animalistic moan. The lewd sight makes you feel powerful. His eyes are still closed when you decide to swivel your hips against his, making figure eights. Your pace is fast, one hand keeping a vice in his hair, the tips of your nails digging into his head, while your other hand clutches onto the top of the headboard for support.
Much too quick for his liking, his eyes burst open, his mouth mimicking yours with a silent moan, but you can feel his entire body tense as you work his second orgasm out of him. His eyes are pooling with unshed tears that pulls at your heartstrings, and you slow your brutal pace to a more sensual one as he rides out his orgasm. His body eventually relaxes, sagging back into the headboard.
Finally releasing the death grip on his hair, your own body comes to a full stop as you lean back against your hands on the bed to give yourself your own little break from the workout you just had.
“Comment es-tu réel?”
{How are you real?”}
He chuckled mirthlessly, head falling back to join his body in exhaustion, but his eyes are still locked with yours. All you do is smirk sinfully at him, not knowing at all what he just said, but having a feeling it has to do with your stellar performance.
His hands roam over your stomach, the tips of one hand hovering dangerously close to your exposed clit from the position your in. He sees when your lower body tightens, your hole fluttering around nothing. His now semi hard member slipped out for the most part when you chose to sit your butt back on the mattress between his legs instead, though due to his impressive length, the tip still stayed in.
Two fingers gently pry your folds open, your essence still dribbles from the prior stimulation down his cock that coats his fingers in seconds when he shifts to inserting two fingers up to the knuckle above his shaft, slowly scissoring you open and stretching you. Your head falls back against your shoulders, and you do your damndest not to close your legs out of sheer instinct to lock the fingers inside your pussy greedily.
You’ve never felt this full before, it was almost overwhelming. A quiet sob escapes your lips, that has you slapping a hand over your mouth. Your lower body shakes, as you refrain from moving against him, knowing your body is still tired and wouldn’t be able to handle the strenuous activity again. But god, did you want to cum so badly.
Please. Please. Please. Please.
“I got you, baby. I got you.”
You don’t realize that the mantra you thought was in your head, was actually being spoken out loud, mumbled behind your hand. Though, you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Your only focus being on finding your own pleasure.
He brings his other hand up to rub lazy, but pressured circles on your engorged clit. Your body twitches at the sudden onslaught, and to further your building pleasure, Taehyung begins to minisculely move his hips in short movements.
Your legs begin to shake as the pressure once again builds, the coil tightening in you to the point of bursting at any second, yet you wanted to scream at the fact your orgasm was teetering on the edge of occurring, but not.
You hated being a girl sometimes, having to deal with the agony of your own body denying you an orgasm right away.
Taehyung began to grunt, his cock now fully hard, though he paid no mind, his only goal being to coax you to your high. His brows were scrunched, teeth digging into his bottom lip, sweaty curls plastered around his flushed face and neck. His hand was cramping, his legs were cramping, his arm was cramping, but he fought through it.
Sharp pants began to take hold of you, your chest heaving in a rhythmic pattern. The hand that was once over your mouth, now joins your other hand in clutching the bed sheets in a death grip and you stare up at the ceiling with watery eyes, a determined look on your face.
Throwing all caution to the wind, you finally begin swiveling your hips in time with his hand movements – the lewd, wet, squelching that resounded throughout the room surprisingly only doing the bare minimum amount in helping you.
There’s one factor you noticed that stopped.
Taehyung’s French. You needed to hear it.
“French.”
You grind out, eyes still honed in on the celiling. He lets out a grunt of confusion, not expecting you to talk, so your words fall on deaf ears. It nearly makes you growl when you say it again.
“French. Now.”
“Jouis pour moi. laissez-moi vous voir se dérouler. Christ. Tu es tellement belle putain.”
{Enjoy for me. Let me see you unfold. Christ. You are so fucking beautiful.”}
His voice is laced with a whiny undertone, and as if by magic, your orgasm explodes from within you. You sob in relief as your body falls backwards onto the bed, he chases your bodies movement to hover over you once again. He secures one arm around each of your legs as he lifts your butt off the bed to get a deeper angle to plow into your now dripping pussy at a break neck pace. Skin slapping against skin reverberates throughout the room.
“Holy fuck. Oh my god. Taehyung, please.”
Your hands are trying to push him off of you, the overstimulation making you see stars. Thankfully, it’s only mere seconds later that he collapses off to the side of you, his own chest heaving along with yours as you both now stare at the ceiling above you. Shadows flicker around the room from cars that pass by, the mumbled sound of cars honking and passing conversation being the only background noise to fill the silence.
“That was–,” his voice is raspy, laced with both exhaustion and the need to just close his eyes and sleep.
“Oui.” Your reply is met with a breathless chuckle, one you join in with soft laughter of your own.
He throws an arm around your waist, laying his head sideways between your breasts and then sighs in content. You mindlessly begin carting your fingers through his sweaty curls, and it’s not long before you hear soft snores coming from the male. Eventually, as you watch the shadows dance around the ceiling, do your own eyes get heavy, and you drift off into dreamland, a smile on your face.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
When you wake up, he’s gone.
A note, scrawled in elegant cursive lays on the pillow next to your head. A single rose accompanies it.
‘Jusqu'à ce que nous nous revoyions, mon amour.’
{Till we meet again, my love.”}
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You wouldn’t see him again for another two years, and by then, you’re no longer the same naive tourist you once were.
The skies were a effervescent shade of blue, with pillowy clouds scattered about. The hustle and bustle of tourists and residents around you served as a raucous kind of lullaby as you closed your eyes and savored all that this city had to offer - not noticing the photographer who saw you through his lens at a short distance away.
He pretended to be taking photos of the flowers that bloomed behind you, the various colors only enhancing the beauty that was naturally you. He inched ever so closer, just enough to angle his body in a way to capture the peaceful expression on your face within his lens crosshairs.
It was one lone click, followed by the sound of a shutter closing and opening on a camera that had your eyes blinking themselves open. For a second, you saw nothing as your eyesight once again needed time to focus on the light surrounding you instead of the dim darkness that was your eyelids.
When the blurry settled, and the saturation and vibrancy of the scenery around you sharpened, did you fixate your strong gaze to the male who looked at you, peaking his head slightly above the frame of his camera. A hint of a dimple could be seen, as well as his boxy, closed mouth smile.
“J’adore ton sourire.”
{“I love your smile.”}
The once serene look on your face turned to one of knowing, your smile still present - bigger, but demeanor becoming more poised. You knew exactly what he said, the mischievous way his eyes shined at you had your body yearning for more from the familiar male. He adored the way your cheeks let off a cherry hue, and couldn’t wait to see you writhe with pleasure underneath him again. Or, if he had a choice, above him.
“Je peux vous offrir un verre?”
{“Can I buy you a drink?”}
You recited the popular phrase you knew in French, having become more fluent in the love language since you last saw him, so you knew what to ask. Though forward, he welcomed the thrill — the adventure, the passion — as a once fellow foreigner did in a time past with open arms and mind.
I hid behind a tree in the dark of the night. The shadows clung to me, invisible to all, but that was nothing new. I had grown used to going unseen. A boon more often than not, just as now. I watched a man dig away beneath a willow tree. He dug and dug until the hole was deep enough, like a grave. I tilted my head when he scooped up a bag and carried it down. He covered it back up, knelt, and left.
I waited a moment longer before I approached the site. The man had taken his shovel, but curiosity got the better of me. I clawed away at the dirt beneath me until I hit the bag. I struggled to find the zipper under the dirt, but found it. I undid it and gasped. It was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Never ever had I seen anyone more beautiful than she, particularly among the living.
I gawked at the woman’s frigid beauty when a glint caught my eye. I glanced down to see a peacock tail brooch pinned to her bloody shirt. I gingerly touched the brooch and admired it. It wasn’t as beautiful as she, but it added to her radiance.
Voices snapped me out of my trance. I reached to scramble out of the hole, but I paused. I looked back down at the woman, entranced once again. I shook my head, zipped up the bag, hastily filled the grave, and ran. I hid behind the tree again as the villains, Shadybug and Claw Noir approached the grave.
I watched them bicker and argue before they dug up the grave. I held my breath when they tore the beauty from her grave and threw her around. They searched for the brooch, but didn’t find it. I furrowed my brow as the brooch was on there. They should be able to see it, but they didn’t. I remained as they tossed her aside and left the grave disturbed.
I stepped out from my hiding spot towards the beauty when I stepped on something. I looked down to see the brooch on the ground. I tilted my head and picked it up. I stared at it as a compulsion to put it on washed over me. I surrendered to this feeling and put it onto my shirt. A soft light shot out that materialized into a small peacock creature with a tiny body and large head. I circled around it in awe.
“What… what are you?” I asked in my whispery tone.
“Pardon me, little one. My name is Duusu, and I’m a kwami. We have only met, but I have a favor to ask. One that puts you in extreme danger.”
“Oh. What would that be?”
“Please, don’t let those villains take me. Their boss wants us all, and if he gets us all, it’ll be disaster. I know I’ve no place to ask you this, but they’ll find me eventually.”
I stared at Duusu. I had some knowledge of Shadybug and Claw Noir, but it didn’t go far. I knew they destroyed Paris many times over, ruined lives, and so much more. Betterfly worked to stop them, but he never seemed to get anywhere. So many died every day, and I could be next.
“I will, but you must be able to keep me safe too.”
“I can offer what I can. Powers, that is. They aren’t much, but you saw beauty in my former holder. Perhaps you can make use of them. More than those that would seek to brutishly abuse me.”
I glanced back at the woman’s discarded corpse. “She was your holder before, but died?”
“Unfortunately. She did her best, but her best wasn’t enough. She was beautiful herself, but that can only get you so far. You must be more than just beautiful. You must see beauty in the world somewhere, and she did not. But you do! You can succeed where she failed.”
I stared at the woman. I mulled over Duusu’s words. Beauty in the world? I never saw beauty in the world. Though that was not entirely true. I loved the end of fall that led into winter. The quietness and death of the season brought with it a sense of beauty that no one ever seemed to share. Even now as I gazed upon the woman, I see her as the most beautiful thing ever, even in death. She is the first, and the only.
“Little one?” Duusu asked.
I turned back to Duusu. “I’ll do it.”
Duusu breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I promise, I will keep you safe. You’ll just need to speak these words: Duusu, spread my feathers. Once spoken, I will be yours and you will be mine. A bond that can only be broken when you set me free… or death.”
“Very well. Duusu, spread my feathers.”
Duusu shot into the brooch and transformed my clothes into a simple black dress with a full black veil over my entire body to shroud me. I looked myself over and started towards home when I paused. I glanced back at the woman’s corpse and the grave. I figured it would be suspicious if I returned her to it, but I couldn’t leave her out like this. Her beauty couldn’t be wasted like this. It needed to be displayed, not hidden away.
I approached the woman’s corpse and scooped her up. I was surprised by my newfound strength. I carried her away from the tree in search of a proper home. I would ensure she got a proper burial and shrine.
